Baring My Scars
by Lydian Stone
Summary: Ziva has resumed her NCIS life but the affects of Somalia start to surface.  Team fic, in character, so I've been told by reviewers : .  Starts during Masquerade, but some liberties taken for the flow of the story.  CHAPTER 30 added.  Now complete
1. Mileage

**A/N This is my first try at something like this. I felt a very rare creative streak and while I started just typing the first chapter for fun it soon turned into a 30+ chapter saga. When I originally wrote and posted this I was trying just to get it done so I didn't catch a lot of mistakes so as I have time I'm reposting the chapters with a few changes and hopefully less overt errors. I can't help but insert a comma every time I inhale, but some things will never change. **

**It's written in present tense **_**aside from flashbacks**_** and unless noted otherwise it's Ziva's POV. **

**Normal caveats apply.**

Baring My Scars

Chapter 1

Mileage

How often do we dodge the impending bullet, the ticking bomb or the sudden loss of those who share this life, a life as rife with danger and uncertainty as other jobs are saturated with numbing monotony? Each of us regularly tips the balance between caution and courage, not knowing what consequences a split second decision could bring about. However, the deepest pain for me developed gradually, and was of my own making. The courage that brought about my rescue had been carefully orchestrated and had been born from persistent will rather than an instant decision of valor.

Today the precarious dance had been with potential radiation, and thankfully there had been no casualties. Well, maybe a few "little DiNozzo makers" but I am guessing not enough to cause concern if the Italian reputation has any merit.

As my hair is drenched in the welcomed flow of the shower in the NCIS locker room, I am soberly aware that it could have ended differently. Potential risk defines a typical day at the office. I used to shake it off and turn the page without a lingering thought as to what could have been or uttering a quiet thanks with a meaningful brush of my necklace.

Today my mind lingers and I offer a prayer of thanks.

Today I study the mileage that this body has endured, and the times when it has not ended as just another day. Thankfully, most scars do not show, those being the most harmful tend to be less obvious. If being whipped on the arms was more cliche, perhaps I would be destined to a life of long sleeves, but the back is easily covered and broken ribs and many scrapes and abrasions have healed well enough. The knife to my ribs when I was initially captured had left the most severe mark. I cannot help but smirk when I think that Tony will never have another contraband picture of me in a bikini. I find I am numbly resigned to wearing a one-piece (if I ever wear one in public again) than my former vanity would have allowed. I no longer wish to draw attention to my body or consider my beauty as an asset, a tool in my unconventional arsenal. I take care of myself, but have no desire to think of myself physically beyond health and simple make-up for my face and the scars that would otherwise be visible. I do not wish for others to look deeper than my casual attire and confident smile.

I have lingered too long given the circumstances, and have allowed myself too much self-assessment, which borders dangerously on self-pity. I do not want to risk missing anything important in the investigation. Yes, I need to turn my mind to the case, a safer place to mentally dwell. Tony and McGee have likely showered and scrubbed half their skin off in half the time I have taken. Gibbs no doubt skipped the shower all together.

I turn off the water, grab my towel and walk across the mercifully empty room. I try to avoid showering at work to prevent any well-intentioned knowing looks that I fear my skin would elicit. I dry off, wrap the towel around my hair and start dressing when the door flings open and Abby, still wearing the radiation suit minus the helmet, makes a grand crinkling entrance. She starts spouting that Gibbs is looking for me as she rounds the corner to where I am and before I can get my shirt on she sees . . .

I stand in my trousers and bra, and I know before I turn that she had seen them. The marks, the branding that claimed me as _his _possession despite the distance and even death that now separates Salim from me. When I turn in response I realize that I have now revealed the 4-inch stab wound as well. I am exposed. Abby cannot move, cannot talk and this makes me realize just how (frightened? disgusted? uncomfortable?) she is. I turn back towards my locker, calmly finish dressing and pat my damp hair dry in an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness.

"Abby, where does Gibbs want me? The bullpen, lab, MTAC?" This seems to pull her out of her stupor and she looks at me with dampening eyes and seems aware that I have said something but cannot process anything beyond what I know was a horrific sight. Silence from Abby is unnatural . . . unnerving. After an eternity of seconds she realizes what I have asked and tries to form an answer.

"Um, autopsy, but Ziva. . . "

"Abby," I raise my hand to cut her off. "We will talk later. I must not keep the team waiting any longer." As I leave, I weave my way around the benches so that I am not in danger of a compassionate embrace. I am not feeling as stoic as I appear and I do not think I could survive it with my wits in tact. I look back and plead, "Please do not share what you have seen. I am not yet ready to bare my scars." I leave her frozen and speechless aside from the silent tears that I know she is shedding for me.

I shake off the encounter knowing that it will no doubt lead to a long overdue talk. I have been able to avoid talking to the men. McGee would never broach a topic that may cause me pain. He is quite the gentlemen. With Gibbs words are thankfully superfluous, I suspect he knows, of course he does, but he would never press for confirmation, After all, he puts less stock in psychology than I do. Tony. Tony I know is worried and waiting. He has always respected me as his partner, and enjoyed my friendship, but since Somalia his image of me as being unbreakable, tough as screws, a force to be reckoned with has shattered and a protective respect for my new fragility has emerged. He does not minimize my worth as an agent, and if anything I seem to be more valued by him, yet he is intentionally casual and careful. Even though our friendship has regained a comfortable level of bickering and confidently tips towards flirtation, he no longer takes my state of mind or physical safety for granted.

As I walk the hallway I reluctantly think back to the rescue.

_It was a light blur at the end of an infernal nightmare. I saw tenacity in those familiar eyes, I had not felt any emotions in weeks, maybe months, and it seemed all so foreign. I could not process the image in front of me. He came though I deserved it not. Did he really say he could not live without me? McGee risked his life for mine, as well. He had been lying, beaten on the ground, so loyal and encouraging even in the face of defeat. And then there was Gibbs who had resorted to a skill long abandoned to take the life of one that had forever wounded my own. They risked this all for me - a traitor, liar, and worse, a disappointment. I was free, physically. I could move about without restraint, though not effectively after what seemed like a lifetime of bindings, gags, and beatings. I was thankful for the strong arms that held me, guided me, cared for me after being starved of any touch that lacked violence and contempt. I could rely on their muscles as mine advertised my weakened state. I was gently placed in the back of a truck with my three avengers. They looked at me as though I were ethereal. In truth, I had wondered if Salim had concocted a new serum that had me hallucinating, but no hallucination I could muster would be laced with such hope and kindness. No, this was different. _

I reach autopsy, regroup with the guys, make my apologies and set my mind to the case at hand. I have been trained to block out all else save what is most important to the mission, yet I find that I can switch my attention on and off more easily these days. I am focused on the case but with each walk down a hall, coffee run, elevator ride, the nagging feeling that I could not avoid Abby for long would usher in more memories.

_After a short drive, we arrived at a small military outpost. We stayed long enough for a medic to hop in the truck, take my vitals and put in an IV to counter months of dehydration. Tony and McGee were reluctantly assessed, but they refused any treatment that would delay getting me to a more 'established' medical facility. We then faced a longer drive to a safer and more equipped base. I had ridden laying on a makeshift gurney with my eyes closed, not being able to assess my situation, speculate how it came about, or reason why these men cared. Honestly, I could not think or feel anything aside from palpable weight of concerned stares, and strong, gentle hands that would lightly squeeze mine from time to time. I felt Gibbs' calloused fingers in one hand and occasionally he gently stroked the hair from my face. My other hand instinctively knew Tony's touch. _

_Once in the makeshift hospital I was taken into a corner and a curtain was drawn for what little privacy could be afforded. I was examined in every imaginable way, questioned by agents for both intelligence and general reporting purposes, all while being treated as evidence. I knew logically that reports would need to be filed, evidence collected and this would not go undocumented, but I was ill prepared for the feeling of utter exposure that accompanied the documentation of my torture. I still felt half outside myself, but the part that was present was thankful that this was done by strangers and that I was not facing MY NCIS agents with the humiliation and defeat of all my wounds and the explanations their horrific origins._

I pinch the bridge of my nose and once again shake the memories from the forefront of my mind.


	2. Silence

Chapter 2

Silence

(Tony's POV)

After a flood of phone calls to try to diffuse the panic of the dirty bomb, I wander into the lab with a Caf-Pow and halt. No music. No sound at all yet Abby is there, in front of her computer running some test or another, maybe DNA? Her braids are gone and a lone low ponytail in their place. She does not turn to greet me.

"Abby?"

She responds flatly, "Oh, hey, Tony. I'm waiting on the DNA results, and don't worry, I rechecked the radiation level two more times to ensure that you will not be the last in the DiNozzo line."

"Okay . . . Now tell me what I really want to know."

"What? It's not dangerous, you'll be okay along with McGee and Gibbs." I look at her pointedly as she reluctantly turns to face me.

"You didn't mention Ziva."

Silence

"Your music is off."

Silence

"You know it does say 'Special' Agent Anthony DiNozzo on my nameplate, and through my superior investigative skills I will find out what is going on, but you know you'll feel better if you just tell me yourself." I give her a kind smile, one that normally she wouldn't be able to resist. In return she looks more serious and starts pacing.

Finally the dam of silence breaks.

"Tony, I made a promise and as much as I would love to unload on you, I just can't this time. Please don't press or I may tell you anyway and then I'll never forgive myself for not keeping a secret, and I know you don't want me to be mad at myself, or anyone else to be mad at me so just this once I need you to not ask me anything not related to the case."

I smile at her reassuringly despite the knots building inside me. I pull her into a bear hug that rivals her attack of me earlier at the crime scene. "I won't ask, but that doesn't mean I can't help. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you or your . . . 'friend'"

"Will do. And, Tony, thanks."

"Anything for you, Abby."

As I walk out I feel anything but light. It has to be Ziva, but she doesn't seem any more off than normal. Perhaps she was a little distracted in autopsy, but she had just showered after a potential radiation exposure, so that could explain it, couldn't it?

Wait. Abby went to find her in the locker room. Could she have seen? It could be a host of other things, but I know Ziva's privacy had been so callously invaded that she values having a large measure of control over it.

_I had been a witness to the cuts and bruises on her face and hands and the dried blood on her tattered clothes. I knew that while in that sad excuse for a hospital in Africa she had been treated beyond meeting the needs of dehydration and a few stitches on the visible gashes. I understood her silence on the flight home and her reluctance to make eye contact with anyone. I had seen the evasive mannerisms on so many victims during my time both at NCIS and homicide, but it was unnerving to see them coming from her, and to know that I was responsible for causing her this pain. She had been so much stronger than the rest of us, at least on a par with Gibbs. The fact that she was so publicly broken must have hurt her more than any of the physical scars would ever show._

I know her secrets. I didn't intend to violate any trust between us, and for all the effort we put into regaining a level of normalcy after her bumpy reentry into NCIS, I do not want to jeopardize it now. I close my eyes and relive the tender kiss she granted me, delivered with a gentility and uncertainty that a year ago I wouldn't have imagined possible. I always knew a softer side was under there somewhere, but I never expected for her vulnerability to be directed towards me. There are a few defining moments in every relationship and for me, that was huge.

I watch her leave the bullpen shortly after I return. Her expression gives nothing away so I am again resigned to wait for her to confide in me. At least I am hoping that she will eventually talk to me for her own sanity and relief, but also I have to admit, for my own. For now I stay on cruise control, making myself available, a constant in her life. I am trying to be content believing that in some way my presence helps lessen the severity of all that weighs her down.


	3. Tsunami

Chapter 3

Tsunami

Ziva's POV

We are all busy trying to deflect another terrorist attack, yet as I dutifully investigate my assigned leads I steal a look to the empty desk across from me and I feel uneasy. My heart sinks as it occurs to me that Abby would eventually have evidence for the team and in her sweet honesty she will not be able to hide her feelings or keep things from those who care about her. I know asking her not to divulge a secret when it causes her concern is unfair, so maybe it is time that I face Abby and let her talk it out, before someone else stumbles upon her in an unsettled state. I stand as Tony walks to his desk, whistling. He sits, shuffles papers and tries not to look at me. Despite his efforts I feel his eyes on me as I walk away.

"Abby?"

"In here, Ziva." A conflicted voice utters from her far office. I cross my arms and lean in the side of the doorframe. Her hair is down, her eyes look tired and Burt is snuggled in her lap while she attempts to examine fragments from the bomb. I am hoping that she is hiding to keep herself from having to see anyone, rather than out of guilt of having spilled the peas.

"Abby, I know what you saw, and I want to assure you that I no longer feel pain associated with the scars. I cannot help that they are there, but they only represent the past. You need not worry about me."

She stands up abruptly. "How can I not worry? I spent months worrying about you, then mourning you. I knew that you needed space but I should have tried harder to find you. I am so sorry! I tried to follow you but Mossad is so secretive and I kept running into dead ends. Then we thought you were dead and I never got to say goodbye or hug you when you left DC, just like I never had the chance to say goodbye to Kate. It was happening all over again. Then we tracked Salim and we didn't know you were still captured, and that must have been worse than anything . . ."

"Abby . . . " I try to slow the vocal tsunami coming at me. She draws breath then continues, only mildly slower than before.

"Anyway, during it all I was bound to this lab, even when the guys went to rescue you I had to stay here, in this sanitized environment, helpless. I heard you were safe and I saw you walk out of the elevator, exhausted and beaten down, but I was not in Africa to witness the hell you escaped from. Ziva, I just was so far away from your suffering, it didn't seem real. I couldn't make myself think about how badly you were tortured or what you had to live through. Tony and McGee told me some of what happened, but you know them, they would try to shield me from the nastiness of a paper cut if they could. Tony especially. With Timmy I could see the intense look in his eyes from time to time, and I knew he was keeping the worst from me."

She took another breath then continued.

"I figured Gibbs had the full report, but he would seal it and the rest of us knew it wasn't our business unless you wanted to tell us. So, now that you know that I know, do you want to talk about it at all? If not, could I at least hug you a bit more often because I know that you went without kindness for a long time, and not just when you were captured. If anyone needs more hugs in her life, it is you. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I guess I'm just rambling because, you know, I love you, we all love you and would do anything for you and I can't erase those scars, but I need to do something to help them go away, at least on the inside."

I cannot help but smile. During her rambling Abby had walked around the room, holding Burt and did not seem to notice the occasional noise he was expelling. Now she looks at me with eyes still reddened, pained, but hopeful. I look at the friend I know I would never deserve, and hold out my arms. Abby does not wait for a verbal invitation. She hugs me tightly and with her sobs I feel the distress lift from her shoulders. I am still learning to accept physical affection, but I tell myself that this is as necessary as the countless stitches that pierced my skin to promote healing. After growing up with Eli where independence and toughness were valued above all else, this had been foreign territory for me years ago and after this summer I am relearning the value of touch. Each hug is becoming less uncomfortable and I wonder if eventually they would become welcome.

"Thank you, Abby. I do feel better that I no longer need to conceal my scars from you. Please do not worry, though. I am safe at home, at least until the next dirty bomb explodes, or bad guy shoots my direction," I say lightly.

As she wipes her eyes she smiles and says "Yeah, but I know as long as you are here, the guys have your back and there is no way they will _ever_ let anyone take you from them again."

I then have an idea. I take the hairbrush from Abby's top drawer, ask her to turn around and sit on her stool and I start brushing, then parting and twisting her hair into braids. I have not done this since Tali was little, but I know Abby needs all the reassurance I can offer and I am surprised at how my hands have not forgotten the exercise. Once her hair is done and her tears have dried I ask, "So we are good now, Yes?"

"Yes indeedy! And Ziva . . . thank you."

As she reaches for the ipod controls she pauses and asks, "So Tony doesn't know about your scars? Are you going to tell him?"

I did not expect that question. I think for a moment and answer her honestly, "I know he is aware that I endured much. I have not shown him, or described to him how extensive they are, but I know he is aware that they exist."

Abby looks pensive then says, "I will keep my promise not to tell the guys about them, but please promise me that one day you will at least confide in Tony. He loves you, you know."

I know that Abby and Tony have always been close. He has always played the overprotective brother but her concern for him often rivals his efforts. I offer her a half smile and reply, "I promise that one day I will bare some of my scars to him, but I am not yet ready. Today was just one step for me and I need to pace myself." I am certain that Abby noted that I did not address the second part of her declaration. I am not able to process that just yet. As I turn around I nearly run into Gibbs.


	4. Girls

**A/N I tried to make it read like Gibbs and while he has a bit of slang now and then it's not entirely consistent so I intentionally ended some words with in' instead of ing depending on how I heard him say it in my head.**

Chapter 4

Girls

(Gibbs POV)

I pause outside the room when I hear them talking. I overhear enough to put together what has passed between the girls. I know I should refer to them as 'women' with all the PC meetings I couldn't duck out of, but seeing them braidin' each others' hair and confidin' in each other, it feels more like I am looking at my daughters than my agents. Memories of Shannon and Kelly having girl talks over hair come flooding back to me and I can't help but smile.

I hear, "He loves you, you know . . . " I roll my eyes and think to myself, "Yep, Abby, we ALL know."

I know my "kids." To Abby affection is vital. She thrives on kisses and Caf-Pow. I'm proud of Ziva for braiding Abby's hair. Touch does not come easily for her, especially when it comes to other girls. Sorry, "women." The boys are easier, Tony needs daily head slaps, McGee the occasional, "Good work, Tim." Then there is Ziva . . .

She is tough, capable, but affected. She hides it, but she needs more assurances than the rest put together. I saw the file. Vance made me review it as a condition of accepting her back. He wanted me to be prepared, I guess in case she couldn't handle returnin' to the harder parts of the job. I hated to read the reports and skim through the pictures of the torture she went through. I unwillingly invaded her privacy, pages telling what she wouldn't want me to know.

Instead of seeing her as some helpless victim, what I came away with was that she is resilient. She lived through hell, has daily reminders of it, but she's still here - rightin' wrongs, solvin' murders, and functioning as a model agent with no sign that her past haunts her. I keep an eye on her because I do know of the hurts that need to be erased, soothed, but for the life of me, I don't know how it all can be overcome or how anyone could make up for a life full of neglect, violence, abuse and loss. Of course Tony at least understands neglect. I hope Ziva will talk to him. I think it would help them both. I must be getting soft because I'm starting to sound like some sort of shrink.

I often see Tony watchin' her and pickin' up on the little clues that all is not okay, but he's givin' her space. I see him struggling to find the right balance with her, but I trust they will figure it out. Tim does his best to keep things normal even though he experienced part of her abuse first hand in Somalia. When we got back I think Ziva was more worried about him than herself since this was his first taste of severe torture. Through it all he never complained. I'm proud of both of my boys, not only for how they rescued her, but also for how they're keepin' her head above water now.

I walk in with my straight expression and a fresh Caf-Pow, giving away nothing to betray my sentimental thoughts. That was hard when I saw that Ziva had cared enough to add red checked skull do-hickeys to the end of Abby's braids. Ziva, not hearing my entry turns and bumps into my chest. Her awareness is a bit off – noted.

I look at her as she smiles, nods and passed me. I hand Abby a Caf-Pow and say,

"Abbs, if you have time to get your hair done, you better have something good!"

"Gibbs! You know I wouldn't let you down . . . "

Abby presses play and the room fills with noise once again.


	5. Fireworks

Chapter 5

Fireworks

(Ziva's POV)

After leaving the lab and getting an update at the evidence garage, I return to the bullpen to discover a note from Tony asking me to bring popcorn to the show in the interrogation room. I hurry, knowing that Gibbs and Allison Hart would provide some needed distraction from the seriousness of the day. By the time I run up with the freshly popped bag, the fireworks are over and Tony and I "earn" a trip to an empty warehouse.

The car ride is filled with our speculations over the tenuous yet charged relationship in which Gibbs and Allison find themselves. She is a clever woman, but how could he ever be anything but suspicious of her? Oh, I am one to pass judgment! Tony spouts out endless movie references of couples with parallel sexual tension issues. Meanwhile our own tension is just under the surface but thankfully ignored. Despite the easy conversation I feel as though there is something he wants to say but he is having that all too familiar debate with himself whether he should go there, meanwhile he continues regaling me with movie and "what if" scenarios. He wisely decides against forcing a confidence with me once again. For my part I smile and play along, despite the similar thoughts that plague me.

I have made a promise to Abby and although this is not the time, I do owe it to Tony to tell him the truth, all of it. He would never see it as me 'owing' any sort of justification or payment out of debt. He wants to know for a deeper reason than curiosity. I see it in his eyes, especially since Paris, but he's showing restraint in our conversations in fear of what? My reaction? Pushing me away? Leading me on? I have appreciated his forbearance but it is so tangible it has settled like a thick fog between us. Abby's words come back to me "he loves you, you know." Of course I know that he is insane enough to avenge my death, he has taken beatings to spare me pain, he has been gently giving me space, but is that for my comfort so I can approach him on my own terms, or is it so that I do not get the wrong idea? Would he not have gone to Africa to save Gibbs, or Abby, or McGee? I know he would have. Chivalry is far from dead in Tony's world.

The car stops, jolting my train of thought as our "what if" scenarios culminate in who would win in a knife fight. Tony looks over with the smile that I used to take as playful but it has matured into something more over the past year. He tries to keep it light, but I see the weight in his eyes despite the chipper façade.

We walk into the building after I reluctantly pick the lock. I try to calm my pulse as to not show the anxiety I feel walking into the dim enclosed room. I am not afraid but my body still seems to be repulsed by such darkness. The familiar panic subsides within seconds, but it always seems so much longer. I feel my body calm to match my expression. I have no intention of divulging any of my experiences from Somalia, especially in such a place, yet the conversation leads dangerously towards it. I try to tread lightly on the topic, giving him an insight into the maddening "logic" that had been twisted to justify the contempt and violence I endured, and he listens intently, as I do my best to avoid meeting his eyes by focusing on the cabinet in front of me.

"You never talk about it." I turn and he is standing too close. I nearly step back at the intensity I see in his eyes despite the shadows. It is killing him that he does not know the extent of my wounds, wounds for which he would gladly atone, if that would only lessen my suffering. He had released me from hell, but he knows I'm not free. Not yet.

"What is there to talk about?" As I hear myself say the words I know this is a weak answer. I know there are volumes that are not being said, but I am emotionally empty after talking with Abby. I cannot focus on the work at hand if I go to that place. He has been careful with me and not pushed me and perhaps I have trespassed on his patience too long. Yet this is not the time, and I want to be in an environment that is controlled, on my terms, not baring my soul in another terrorists' lair, where a split-second of distraction could cost his life. No, I need to deflect.

"Come on, Ziva. . ." I see the hurt, I feel the desperation in his strained voice, but I cannot risk it. I morph my feelings into a warning not to become like Salim in any way, as though Tony could be capable of such senseless violence. I see bomb-making materials, a thankful anchor bringing us back to this reality, and Tony reluctantly follows my lead back to the case at hand. I know this discussion is not over, but he respectfully retreats once again and the ball is now in my field.


	6. One Bed

Chapter 6

One Bed

(Tony's POV)

During the ride back to the Navy Yard, I glance at Ziva who is examining a detonation device in an evidence bag. For once I don't feel like filling the silence. I tried to get her to open up and failed miserably so I'm left to dread how far that has set me back. I think about Paris and I wonder if we'll ever be that close again.

_One bed. One bed and not enough carpet space for me to give her any elbow room. She offered to sleep on the floor, but there was no way I would allow that. I didn't want to be the one who suggested the obvious. Thankfully she spoke first. _

"_I do not see why we cannot share the bed. It is not as though we have not slept together before." I snapped my head up and shot her a look then winced and cursed my juvenile reaction to her statement of a simple fact. She hadn't notice, she just continued to look at the bed pensively. It technically was a double, by European standards, much MUCH smaller than the king sized one we had shared undercover. It had seemed like a lifetime ago that we pretended to be married, when in reality we were little more than strangers. _

"_Are you sure you won't be uncomfortable?" I fished to gauge her reaction._

"_Of course not." She threw her bag on the bed, started to unzip it then looked slyly over and continued, "As I recall you will suffer more than I since I allegedly snore the loudest."_

_I smile at her generous admission, but still do nothing to move towards the bed. She becomes more serious and flatly pleads, "Tony, please, we are both tired and I no longer doubt that deep down you are a gentleman."_

"_Okay." _

_She started rummaging through her bag then paused. "Do you have a t-shirt that I can borrow? I did not bring appropriate pajamas, and I would not want to give you the wrong impression since you are endeavoring to be chivalrous." She said with a smirk and a slightly raised eyebrow. _

_I was thankful for the consideration. I needed to keep my mind grounded tonight. I raised a playful eyebrow back and replied, "Unfortunately, I do." I threw her the Ohio State t-shirt that I had intended to sleep in. She whipped me with it on her way into the small excuse for a bathroom. I squeaked in mock pain._

_I was now to sleep in just my boxers. I am not modest by any means, it's not in the Italian genetic code to lack confidence, but this was uncharted territory, even for me, especially for me. Oh the irony of sleeping with a breath-taking woman, in Paris no less, who needs from me privacy and restraint while I'm nearly naked and sleeping inches from her. I stripped to to my skivvies then climbed in bed. She came out, wearing my t-shirt, and some long silky pajama bottoms. I was trying not to imagine what the "inappropriate" top would have been. Mental head slap, DiNozzo! When I regained my composure I found myself really studying her. In her I beheld the most beautiful sight that Paris could have afforded. She climbed in bed, showing a shade of awkwardness. It was short-lived as she looked over at me, her head propped up on her elbow. I looked at her with what I hoped was matching intensity, then shot her my signature cheesy smile and another raised eyebrow said, "The real question, Agent David, is how honorable will you be this evening?" For that I earned a pillow across my face and a genuine smile and laugh for my efforts. _

_As she turned away I heard, "Good night, Tony." And there we were, together in Paris, in the same bed, each of us as close to the edge as possible, but still inevitably touching back-to-back. I felt the closeness acutely and after minutes of silence I softly asked, "This okay, Ziva?" Her only response was the comforting noise of snoring and snorting. _

_I awoke a few hours later to reclaim my sheets, and realized that they had been tossed about. Ziva's face was contorted while she was franticly mumbling in Hebrew and her breathing quickened. She was having a dream. Nightmare? I was at a loss of what to do. She was laying on her back but had twisted around enough that my t-shirt had ridden up on her, dangerously close to upping the evening's rating to PG-13, I decided to pull the shirt back down in case it decided to travel farther up. I did not want her to wake up feeling exposed. When I carefully propped up on my elbow and reached for her shirt I froze._

_How could she have survived that? Through the Paris moonlight I saw many scars, the largest was so long and wide that it could not have been superficial. How many ribs did he break in that one violent motion? How many violent instances defined her summer? I knew he had abused her, hurt her in every way imaginable, tortured her, but she had yet to willingly admit how bad it really was. Of course I knew logically that the marks must be there, but seeing them made her torture all too raw. Since returning she had been careful and guarded, only revealing enough so that we would think she was mending. In that instant I felt a new intensity of anger toward Salim, which was only overshadowed by a great sadness that she had been keeping the pain to herself. She tried her best to appear to be making progress and she had let me become a comfortable part of her day, but she hid her scars, and let no one into her nightmares._

_I wanted nothing more than to hold her tight, protect her, comfort her, but I couldn't, not yet. I worked my shirt down on her slowly as not to disturb her, then I gently placed my hand on her forehead, smoothed her hair as I had seen Gibbs do when we were going to the hospital in Somalia, and just whispered, "Shhh, your safe, your safe." until her breathing evened and her snorting resumed. _

_The next time I awoke it was I was lying on my back with a tangle of black hair strewn across my face. She was lying next to me with her head on my heart, and her arm flung over me. I had responded in my sleep so that my arms were holding her against me. I tried not to wake her as I gently moved her hair from my face and smoothed it down her head and back. I gently rubbed her back, as if each touch could somehow erase the scars, the nightmares, the memories. _

_We lay like that for hours. She had no more nightmares, but now and then would let out a contented sigh. When she awoke in the morning she did not move at first. I was still rubbing her back and saw her eyelids flutter, then close again. Was that a smile on her face? I was hoping she didn't want this intimacy to end any more than I did. I knew this was the most that she had let anyone touch her since her return. She must have been starved for affection, so I vowed that I would do anything I could to make that up to her. She gave me a little squeeze and worked her fingers through my chest hair, thoughtfully. She then lifted her head and I gazed at Ziva in all her exotic beauty. Hair frizzed despite my smoothing, OSU t-shirt twisted and wrinkled, no make up and yes, a drool line from her mouth to my chest. She could not have been more captivating! She noticed the spit line too as she blushed, quickly wiped her mouth and started apologizing profusely. _

_I just laughed, and said, "Well, you're not the first woman to drool over me!" She playfully scowled and the embarrassment had passed. She then grabbed a pillow and I got the fluffy head slap that I deserved. I retaliated and the pillows flew. We laughed while assaulting each other then we both laid back down, panting from the excitement of battle. I had my hands behind my head, looking up, then my eyes shot over towards her. She was propped up looking at me then met my eyes, quietly said, "Thank you, Tony." Then surprised me by lying back on my chest and hugging me while I responded by putting my arms around her and rubbing her back again. I fell asleep, content. _

_When I woke there was a note with instructions to meet her at a café later in the day, and to enjoy the sights until then. I hadn't slept much throughout the night but the morning nap left me rejuvenated. I left Paris satisfied that I finally had made some progress. _

As I turn into the Navy Yard my mind reluctantly leaves Paris and returns to the reality of dead marines and dirty bombs. I sigh despite myself. We haven't discussed Paris since then, so I can add that to the list of unspoken tensions. I can only hope that she feels at least some of the emotional aftershocks that have bombarded me.


	7. Promises

Chapter 7

Promises

(Ziva's POV)

A month has gone by and I am now nearly used to getting twice as many Abby hugs as anyone else. No one says anything, but I know the general consensus is that I need them, or more likely, Abby needs to give them to me. I still have not revealed much to her, but she seems to be content with my willing affection.

I walk down to the lab to let Abby know that we wrapped up our current case and to see if she wants to go out for our traditional post-case drink. She has just finished tidying and disinfecting the lab. She puts her supplies away, leans on the table and says, "Yeah, it's been a long day."

Then she does something very un-Abbylike. She pauses, and doesn't speak or make a move for the door. I wait, tentatively. Finally she says, "Ziva? You know, I was just thinking about the conversation we had here a while ago and it's been a month now. It's been great to spend time together and thanks for letting me in a bit and all, and I especially like the hair braiding since I could never do French braids very well, and I hate to bring it up, but . . "

I look out the window, sigh and finish for her, "but . . . I have not yet talked to Tony." I bite my bottom lip as she continues.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I don't want to pressure you, but I love you both and I hate to see this _thing_ between you." She is now pacing to match her exaggerated hand movements. "You know I don't expect you to spill all your guts and tell him every detail, but I think in order for him to know you're really okay, he needs for you to admit how bad it was, even if it hurts you both to talk about at first. I hope that makes sense because, well, I've never gone through anything like what you went through, and like I said, I don't want to pressure you . . . "

"Abby . . . " I put my hands on her shoulders and the pacing ceases. She looks in my eyes as I finish. "I promise you that I will talk with him. It is not something that I can easily bring up and he would not risk asking me outright, so I am unsure of how I can start the conversation. I will try to find an opportunity, and I am sorry that I have made you keep this secret. Thank you for caring, Abby, you truly are a wonderful friend." What's one more Abby hug?

She grabs her coat and we walk to the elevator, arms linked.


	8. Control

Chapter 8

Control

Ziva's POV

The next day starts out as usual - run, tea, banter, busywork, and a paper wad war that Tony pulls McGee reluctantly into, then Gibbs walks through, "Dead Marine . . . Grab your gear." He slaps Tim's head as his paper wad of mass destruction is still airborne. I was Switzerland in the war this morning so Gibbs lets me drive to punish the guys. The trip to the crime scene is business as usual. Tony cries shotgun and tries to find the most annoying channel on the radio, which earns him a head slap from behind. McGee is fumbling with the sat nav trying to yell out directions to me, while Gibbs shoots me menacing looks every time his coffee comes dangerously close to spilling on his lap. Ducky is following in the ME van since Palmer is off today and cannot navigate for him.

As we pull up Gibbs gives us our marching orders.

"DiNozzo, perimeter, McGee, bag and tag and Ziva pictures and sketches."

"On it, Boss," is the unified response. The guys extract gear while I twist and tuck my hair in my hat. I grab the camera bag and lead the way to the crime scene.

I walk into the property, an abandoned barn. My pulse momentarily quickens in the darkness, then stills, at least until I enter the small room in the back. What I see in this dank prison paralyzes me. The poor woman had been chained, whipped, and likely sexually assaulted by her captor.

McGee is moments behind me and bumps into me, jolting me back to reality. "Oh, sorry, Ziva." He walks towards the body while I stay near the room's perimeter. Can he hear the pounding of my heart? How could he not? He never looks up at me, just remains business as usual. I cannot take my eyes away from her, this tough brunette marine. I cannot keep from seeing my face on the victim, feeling her pain as I will myself to breath. I pull out the camera despite my sweating palms, and try to take pictures, failing to convince myself that the camera lens can shield me from the terror. Come on, Ziva, regain your composure, you have calmed yourself at all the other scenes, this should be no different.

McGee begins his analysis, and I am thankful for the noise that competes with the THUMP THUMP that reverberates throughout my body. "Looks like she's been here for a while judging by the chain marks on her wrists." Then a few seconds later, "There's a lot of dried blood. She really went through hell."

My hands betray me and will not be stilled. I try several more pictures and as much as I want to ignore the tremors, I cannot do anything to impede the investigation. This honorable woman deserves justice and I cannot submit blurry pictures as evidence. I do not want to swap with McGee and again taint myself with evidence of such a crime, but I see no other option.

In my hesitation, I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. I flinch away impulsively, then I calm as I register the source and submit to its touch.

"Ziver, let me do this, you go outside and help DiNozzo." I see such compassion in his eyes as he takes the camera from my hands and guides me out the door. I follow in a daze, thankful for Gibbs' intuition. I walk outside and can control myself no longer. I walk behind the barn and retch, doubled over. My whole body shakes, I have lost control.

A hand touches my back, the place where whips once tore my flesh and I curse myself for flinching again at the touch of an honorable man. Tony withdraws, then tenderly rubs my back only after he knows that I have registered the familiarity. I try to concentrate on Tony's gentle voice and comforting touch. I try to overcome what must be some sort of full-blown panic attack, but I cannot. I empty my stomach again. Hot tears are streaming and will not stop. I take off my hat in an attempt to cool myself and Tony sweeps back my hair incase I retch again. I continue to shake out of control. I am out of control. I need control. I will myself to be sensible and imagine myself anywhere but there. I cannot. There is no escape. I am out of control. All goes white. The tremors subside. I feel nothing.


	9. Orders

**A/N This is my favorite chapter. **

Chapter 9

Orders

I barely open my eyes, exhausted and confused, intense blue eyes beckon me back from the numb haven that rescued me from my living nightmare. I feel a calloused steady hand holding mine, and another sweeping back my hair. I remember the feeling from before . . . but then it was much hotter outside . . . we were in a military truck . . .

"Ziver?" My hand registers a light squeeze.

Through the exhaustion my mind starts to clear and I remember sobbing and losing consciousness. Did I faint? No. Oh no. I had some sort of break down and swooned like some damsel in distress in one of Tony's classic movies, and at a crime scene, no less.

My other hand covers my face in shame. "Where? . . Gibbs? . . . I am so sorry . . . Did I compromise the crime scene?" My voice sounds thin.

He looks so . . . fatherly and says, "Ducky's van. Tony carried you in here and Ducky made sure you were okay before heading into the crime scene, which is still in tact, but that's not what I'm concerned about right now."

We are silent for several minutes. I put my hand back to my side while closing my eyes. I just cannot look at him. He continues to stroke my hair and I reluctantly find it soothing.

I bite the gun, open my eyes and focus on the ceiling. I try to recover some semblance of professionalism, willing my voice to sound even, "Gibbs . . . I did not realize what I was walking into. Now that I am prepared, I can get back to work. In this case I must apologize. I am sorry that I acted so unprofessionally, it will not happen again."

He does not say anything for a few minutes and even though I am willing myself to move, I still feel lulled by his comforting hand on my head. I know it is a losing battle.

"Ziva, look at me." I reluctantly comply. "No apologies. You are tougher than anyone I know, but everyone has a breaking point. You saw me after the boat explosion years ago. Did you think less of me for it?"

"Gibbs, of course not, but . . ." My breath starts to quicken. I need to . . . calm down . . . or Gibbs will . . . never let me . . .back in the field. I start to stir to prove my determination, but he responds by taking his hand from mine and bracing my shoulder gently. "Stop. Just stop . . . " sensing my frustration from being in such a powerless position, once my breathing slows he continues speaking carefully but a bit more firmly so I feel less like a victim and more like an agent. "Okay, now you are gonna listen to me and follow my orders. DiNozzo is going to take you home and stay with you tonight. If you talk to him, you will not have to see the NCIS shrink again. If you can't talk to him, you need to talk to someone. Vance made me read your file, Ziva. I know the hell you went through, but it's not enough for me to know. You need to _tell_ someone or it's never going to go away."

My eyes flit back to the ceiling. The only response I can muster is a nod.

"Tony is waitin' outside, I sent Ducky and McGee back in the barn since I figured you could do without an audience."

I place my hand on top of the one on my shoulder, look into his eyes and reply, "Thank you, Gibbs."

He helps me sit up, puts his hands on either of my shoulders, leans in, kisses my cheek and says softly in my ear, "Anytime." I curse my emotions as a few tears slide out. He pats my knee, gives one last smile, walks out and nods to Tony upon stepping outside.

Tony gives me a minute to regain my composure, then steps into the van and tries very hard not to look as nervous as I know he must be.

"So, you ready to go?"


	10. Exposure

**A/N Thanks for the reviews, you are very encouraging. **

**By the way, I have nothing against Palmer, per se, but he's unfortunately been brutally attacked by a hoard of wild squirrels and cannot make an appearance in this fic. He is hoping that his traumatic experience will result in a made for TV special or angsty fic of his own. Keep dreamin', Jimmy, you gotta at least make the opening credits first! Meanwhile, Ducky and McGee will try to stop in again, but they've been stuck with a lot of work since Tony and Ziva have been distracted then exiled.**

**Okay, back to the drama at hand . . . .**

Chapter 10

Exposure

I want to resist being forced to leave a crime scene, but I cannot. I must respect Gibbs and so I keep my eyes ahead and find my voice, "Yes, Tony, thank you." Tony helps me up. I do not want help, but I sense he needs to give it to me. He stays close to me as we walk to the car, I suppose in case I swoon again. I blush at such an appalling thought. Oh, can this day get any more awkward?

We drive in silence and I notice that Tony is often glancing at me. I feel sorry for him having to babysit me as I battle the guilt of leaving the crime scene short two investigators. At my apartment he gets out of the car and rounds it quickly to open my door. I would normally be insulted by such a show of my weakness, but today I am weak. He remains close but does not touch me as we walk. I should have never flinched. I find my keys and unlock the door. It occurs to me that I have not given Tony a key to my apartment. I had given him one years ago in case of emergency, but I have not thought to give one to him since I had returned. I will make a note to fix that. I walk in and tell him to make himself at home while I change.

I find myself in the shower once again in contemplation. The same scars are there that I have tried to wash away for months. I think about Abby and the promise I made and I realize that it is time to bare my scars. I do not want to face a shrink, but more than that, I find that I want Tony to know. I do not want to keep anything from him any longer, and now I have no excuse for secrecy.

When I walk out there is silence. Tony normally turns on the TV when he has to wait for me for any reason, but today his full attention is on me. He has placed a glass of juice on the coffee table so as I towel my hair dry I take a sip and notice his eyes following me as I sit down on the other side of the couch. I drape my towel over my legs.

More silence.

He looks so concerned, the same expression he wore at the warehouse a month ago when he tried to get me to talk.

I turn to face him, "I should have talked to you months ago. I am sorry."

"You needed time, I understand that."

"The simple truth is that I went through hell. I do not want to worry anyone else with the details, and I do not want anyone's pity, but I do not think I can continue to work if I do not get this off my skin."

"Take your time. I'm on strict orders from Gibbs that neither of us leaves here for at least 24 hours. I'd just as soon have a mother bear after me than tick him off."

"He is too kind to me, as are you."

His arm is draped over the back of the couch and he lightly squeezes my shoulder and says, "Yeah, well there's a selfish reason for my kindness, but that's a talk for another day." He winks at me and I relax.

There are more moments of peaceable silence as I summon the courage to begin.

"I think the easiest way to explain what I went through is to show you my scars. I have kept them from everyone until Abby walked in on me in the locker room after the dirty bomb incident." A flicker of recognition crosses his face. He is too good of an investigator not to have noticed a change in our friendship, so I know he has made the connection.

I remove the towel exposing the bare legs and feet. He looks at me as if to verify my permission to invade my privacy. "It is okay, Tony, you may look." He tries not to act repulsed by the evidence of my abuse as he studies the cigarette burns. He does not touch my skin. He maintains frequent eye contact with me, allowing me to stop the inspection at any time. This puts me more at ease and I am thankful for the consideration.

Now comes the hard part.

"I would not have imagined a scenario in which I would voluntarily take my shirt off for you, Tony, but since you pinned up a picture of me in a bikini on an aircraft carrier, I will assure you that you will see nothing new." I smirk to hide my nervousness and he pretends to be insulted, but his face retains a seriousness knowing the implications of what I am about to do.

I hesitate. I just need to take my shirt off, a simple motion, but I cannot make my hands do it. They begin to shake again. My breathing quickens. No, not again. I close my eyes and command myself to relax. I feel his steady hand on my shoulder and my breathing returns to normal yet I cannot stop the tremors entirely. He understands that I cannot back out now or we may never have this conversation.

"Would it be easier if I helped?" he asks very carefully. In any other context that would sound suggestive coming from Tony, but in my distress the offer is laced with sensitivity. I nod and turn so that my back is towards him. He slowly lifts my shirt, a few inches at first then I raise my arms and he gently pulls it above over my head, revealing my sports bra and the now white criss cross of scars from the whip. I sweep my hair over my shoulder so he can take it all in. He is silent. I feel his hands tentatively tracing what I know are some of the more severe lines. I let him touch and explore my back and I hear quiet sniffs and know he's mourning for me, for what I went through, for not saving me sooner, for not being able to take them away.

I look over my shoulder at him and his expression holds such sorrow, such palpable compassion. We both shed silent tears. I turn my body to face him and he sees the rest. He lightly touches a few scars on my stomach, then hesitates at the longest one, makes eye contact. I nod my permission. I am sensitive to his touch. It feels curative rather than invasive.

I lose my sense of time as we communicate with few words. He traces and retraces all my new scars. Now and then he pauses at one and I supply the answers to the questions that he will not ask.

"cigar burn . . . broken glass . . . whip . . . "

When he places several fingers over the largest scar I explain, "When I was caught, I was hit with a weapon similar to a small axe. I must have been close to death, but they needed me for intelligence so they stopped the bleeding and let me heal just enough to be useful."

He shifts his hand so that his palm meets my skin and he soothes the scar with his thumb, I tap his chin so he raises his eyes to meet mine.

"Tony," he looks at me with so much remorse. I place my hand on his cheek. "Tony, it is important to remember that though these scars remain, they represent the past and because of you, more were not added to their number. I survived because of you and the team. I survived, Tony. I will never be the same as I was but I will be okay."

Tony nods, closes his eyes and seems to feel the reality of the warmth of my skin seep into his as confirmation. We have survived our newfound intimacy, but it is not yet enough. I can sense his internal conflict as he works up the courage to ask the most invasive question.

He opens his eyes, places his protective hands over mine then carefully kisses my hand and brings our woven fingers to his lap. He clears his throat and delicately says, "There is one more thing that I need to ask, and please forgive me. Ziva, did Salim . . . take advantage of you."

I maintained eye contact "Yes."

He reflexively releases my hand, places his elbows on his knees and drops his head in his hands in anguish. No words come to him as he takes on the weight of what he sees as his failure to protect me. It is my turn to rub his back.

"That is what made today so difficult. We have not had an assault case similar to mine since I have returned. I knew it was inevitable, but I did not realize how severely it would effect me." I am surprised at the relief that washes over me. All these months I had been afraid to show vulnerability, afraid that admitting to being a victim would intensify my disgrace. Ironically, I gain confidence with each word and actually feel a step farther from Somalia. Yet, as my grief lessens, I look at Tony and my heart breaks for him.

He keeps his head down, ashamed. "How can you do it? This job involves so much violence, and you just work as if this were any other day job. Here you are getting over such a terrible experience . . . Ziva, I knew you had been tortured, but I just didn't want to think about how cruel . . . and you have to look at the scars everyday. If I could take it all back I would." He utters it all with such passion. I realize that he needs this talk as much, if not more than I do. It is not in his nature to be open, and he does not have the advantage of scars to display. He is not getting extra Abby hugs or people reaching out to him but he has been suffering as long as I have.

I work my fingers through his hair. "Tony, I do not think about it most days. I am growing accustom to the scars. I have known nothing but a violent isolated life until I came to NCIS and now I have people surrounding me who chose to care about me enough to go to the ends of the earth and back to rescue me . . . even after I had deserted them. That one good thing outweighs the rest."

I continue, "And if you ever regress to thinking that I am just an indestructible ninja, remember that today has proven that some days I cannot handle everything. This is the first time I have truly broken down and despite how embarrassing it was at the time, I am thankful it happened and that you and Gibbs were there for me."

Tony patted my knee, wiped the last of the tears from his face and replied, "You don't have anything to be embarrassed about. You know, after you drool on a guy's chest hair, you shouldn't think twice about a little vomit on his shoes."

My eyes shoot open in mortification. "I did not!"

He laughed weakly. "No, actually you didn't, but I wouldn't mind getting drooled on again if you ever need a good night's sleep."

I reply, smiling but serious, "Gibbs did say that you had to stay with me for 24 hours, and I do not see the need to discuss who gets the couch."

Tony looked at me with that vulnerable expression again, "I promise to remain a gentleman, Ziva."

I squeeze his hand, "I know you will, Tony. Thank you."

After a few more minutes of comfortable silence, Tony picked up my shirt, I raised my arms and he gently pulled it back over my head.

"Since you've had a rough day, I think we should lounge around, order a pizza, and have a movie marathon. You can even pick as many chick flick musicals as you'd like."

"Wow, you must feel sorry for me! You know I will sing along."

"Today, for you, Ziva, I will too."

At last I lean on him, his arms wrap around me securely and we are stripped of all pretenses, allowing the intimacy forged from shared terror and survival to bind us closer together.


	11. Symbiosis

**A/N Okay, I feel like I've been swimming in angst all day along with these guys! I decided to add a chapter of the events from Tony's POV, so he could fill in some of the gaps. **

Chapter 11

Symbiosis

(Tony's POV)

This morning I take in the sight of her small body curled up next to me. Her ear is pressed against my heart again, I feel the drool, and smile. I lightly rub her back and think about the past 24 hours. It seems like the day had lasted a week, but I would not have traded it for anything. I never imagined yesterday morning that I would have ended up lying here with her now. I relive parts of the day in my memory.

_I was feeling gypped having to walk the perimeter and evaluate whether every shoe print, gum wrapper or empty beer can was crucial or irrelevant. I dutifully prepared to tag and bag and reminded myself again that it's really Abby's mess to sort through anyway and I was thankful for that. At least it was a nice day and the penance was worth getting Tim all riled up with my superior spit wad skills. Oh yes, Very Special Agent, in so many ways. _

_Only a matter of minutes had passed before I heard the door to the barn fling open and saw Ziva rush out and around the barn. She looked so determined and pale and her expression . . . I had not seen that vacant look on her face since her rescue. _

_I dropped my supplies and ran, not having a clue what was going on. I had never, NEVER seen her this ill. When I reached her she had thrown up and was still bent over, sweaty and shaking. I knew she had been fine in the car. Maybe it was the flu or something she ate? I didn't know what to do and I hoped I wasn't going to make matters worse. I thought about Paris and impulsively placed my hand on her back hoping to give her some comfort. Then it happened. She flinched as though I had hit her. She was terrified of me. She thought that I was him. I knew then that she was struggling not to remember that place; somewhere where all she knew was abuse and torture, where every touch was filled with violence. The nagging thought came to me again that she was the only woman in a remote camp full of terrorists for months . . . I had hoped I was wrong about that, but I knew logically that I wasn't. I decided that talking might help her realize it was me. I don't remember what I said to her exactly, just called her name, and told her that she was safe. I saw her shoulders slump, and I dared to touch her again, and this time she let me. She threw up a few more times and I saw the stream of tears as I held back her hair. I felt her hyperventilating and shaking so much. Then her knees gave out and I caught her and scooped her up in my arms._

"_Gibbs! Ducky! Help!" They ran towards me followed by Tim, who seemed completely confused. Ducky had just pulled the gurney from the van and Gibbs yelled for me to take her to it. I did not want to stop holding her in my arms, but I put her down as ordered. Tim and Gibbs rolled her back to the van while Ducky hovered by her side, trying to assess what was wrong. _

"_Oh, dear girl, what has transpired? Anthony, what happened? Did she complain of anything?"_

_All eyes were on me. "I don't know. She threw up a bunch and was breathing fast, then she passed out and I called you." I leaned against the van and crossed my arms, looking at the sky, hoping no one would be distracted by my own anxiety._

_Tim looked at Ducky, "Is she going to be okay? I don't get it, she seemed fine."_

_Gibbs replied, "Tim, she'll be fine. Let's lift her in the van and Ducky, you can check her out while we wait out here." _

"_Of course, Jethro." Gibbs leaned in and spoke something softly to Ducky before closing the door._

_The three of us stood outside, all silently afraid that we might lose her again in one way or another. Tim broke the silence_

"_Boss, she looks so pale. How did she get so sick so fast?"_

_Gibbs gave Tim a hard look and said sarcastically, "I don't know, McGee, you were in there collecting evidence. What did you see when you walked in?" _

_A light bulb finally flickered on and he closed his eyes and said, "Oh no. I'm so sorry, Boss, I didn't even think about how she would see it."_

_I realized that Ziva's distress had been caused by seeing the crime scene and glared at McGee. "You didn't notice! You didn't even think about it. Way to go, McSensitive!" _

_I felt bad taking it out on him when I saw him drop his eyes and reply, "You're right, Tony. I should have realized . . . I mean after Somalia I tried to keep an eye on her at crime scenes, but it's been so long, I just stopped worrying I guess. I'm so sorry, and that is an apology I will not revoke."_

_Gibbs decided to end our pity party. "Here is what is going to happen. Tim, you have a lot of work to do, in addition to the scene, you will now also cover the perimeter. We will be short two agents for this case." _

_Tim looked relieved to be able to serve penance for his sins. "Okay, Boss." He paused. Gibbs looked at him, realized that he was waiting to hear the rest of the plan. Instead Gibbs shooed him away with a hand movement and said, "Go." _

"_On it, Boss."_

_I was looking up again, as Gibbs continued, __"And you, take a breath."_

_I took several._

"_She was terrified, Boss. She flinched when I touched her. I've never seen anyone so spooked that they passed out."_

"_Panic attack" was all Gibbs said, "bad one." _

_I turned towards him, not caring how messed up I looked. "Is she really going to be okay, I mean really?"_

"_I think that will be up to her. I want you to take her home and stay with her for at least 24 hours. I want her under observation, and I think she would rather talk to you than be admitted to a psych ward."_

"_Thanks for the vote of confidence." _

_Ducky opened the door, and waved us in. We all sat in the crammed space, looking down at her limp body. I was relieved that at least she was breathing evenly again. "I believe you are right, Jethro. I cannot find anything physically amiss but given her history, and her predicament, severe psychological trauma can result in a panic attack such as this. It is unusual to be unconscious for this long, but I do not wish to attempt to rouse her. She will be exhausted when she wakes and will need rest. I do recommend that someone stay with her for a few days. I would take her in my care today if Mr. Palmer hadn't gotten himself into such a pickle, but I fear I am needed here."_

"_Tony will stay with her. Ducky, is it okay if I look after her until she wakes up? I think the fewer people staring at her when she comes around, the better."_

"_Yes, of course, Jethro. I will tend to my other patient and leave her in your care. Call me if you need anything, or if she wakes up in distress."_

"_Will do." Ducky patted her lifeless hand then stepped out of the van. I scooted closer to her. Gibbs could read my mind so I didn't bother talking. _

"_I'll look after her, DiNozzo. I sent her away from the crime scene so if she sees me she won't feel like she has to explain anything right away." I couldn't take my eyes off her._

"_DiNozzo, you'll still be her favorite even if she doesn't see you first, so go on and wait outside."_

_I didn't say anything, just leaned in, kissed her forehead then glared at Gibbs defiantly for making me leave, daring him to say anything about the show of affection. His expression was flat as usual, and he continued to focus on her while ignoring the fact that I was taking my frustration out on him. I reluctantly followed orders but I kicked the tire before leaning against the van to wait once again. _

_Gibbs came out five long minutes later. He nodded at me and just said, "Give her a minute." I nodded back._

_When I saw her conscious I was relieved, but still so scared. I didn't know how to treat her, what to say, if she would even want to be near me or touch me ever again. _

_During the car ride there was more silence. We have had too much silence lately. I opened her car door when we arrived, hoping that was the right move. She didn't protest, and that worried me as well. She went to shower and I paced around her sparse living room, and racked my brain for what I should do. She threw up a bunch so I poured her some juice, then I sat down because I didn't want her to see me nervously pacing. I listened the whole time she was out of the room, ready to react if I heard a thump from her passing out again. _

_Eventually she came out. _

_The afternoon was a blur. It was exhausting, it was intense, it was intimate. I never expected her to trust me so much. Here she was, a nervous wreck from what he had put her through, and she was brave enough to let me, her partner and friend or whatever I am, but still another man, lift her shirt, examine and even touch all the painful reminders of him. I felt her relax more as I continued to keep physical contact with her, then being the macho guy I am instead of being a rock for her, I went and broke down and sobbed like a little girl and she ended up comforting me. If that is not strength, it does not exist in this world. _

_After we talked she seemed okay, but I still didn't want to leave her alone. After all, I did promise Gibbs to look after her, so she humored me by changing into jeans and coming with me to run errands. We stopped at my place and I grabbed some clothes and movies. We picked up a pizza and her favorite ice cream from the grocery on our way back to her place. We slumped together into the couch and both fell into a peaceful sleep before the nuns had a chance to "solve a problem like Maria." I woke eventually to a call from Ducky. I picked it up and assured him she was much better and he didn't need to stop by. It was only 8:30 so I tried to wake Ziva to see if she wanted to put in "Mary Poppins," but she was snoring like a sailor and I knew the day took too much out of her. I scooted myself around to scoop her up for the second time that day. I carried her to bed slowly while softly singing Edelweiss. She smiled in her sleep. I tucked her in, kissed her forehead then went to the other side of the bed, and crawled in, watching her but making certain not to touch her. _

_Eventually I eased myself on the pillow and felt content knowing that there were no more secrets between us, aside from my hopes of what we eventually will be. I wasn't kidding about having a selfish reason to show her kindness, and while this is not the time to pursue that, I am glad that she didn't retreat at the thought. _

As I smile down on this amazing woman attached to the impressing expanse of drool, I find that I no longer feel the weight of worry and remorse.

I let her sleep in, using me as a pillow until I hear my phone. I reach for it on the nightstand. I see that it's Gibbs and flip it open.

"Yeah, Boss." I say softly.

"Enough said. Let her sleep. Don't need to see either of you today."

**A/N After two intense chapters in one day I have to stop for my own sanity. If I don't walk away now I'll be calling Tony's therapist. And yes, I thought about including that in the story, but it just seemed forced. **


	12. Truce

**A/N This has been the hardest by far to write. I edited it many times then reluctantly decided it was okay enough. Hope it's still in character. **

Chapter 12

Truce

(Ziva's POV)

It was a perfect night's sleep, the first one I have had since my real life nightmare began. I was so exhausted last night that Tony must have carried me to bed. Tony. I am lying on his chest, drooling over him yet again. That will be good for his ego! He is looking at me smiling but does not tease me as I wipe my mouth. I lay back down on a dry spot and he continues rubbing my back. I am content. We stay this way for half an hour before either one of us breaks the spell.

"Sleep well?"

"Yes, Tony, thank you."

I sit up and pull my knees to my chest.

"How about another movie marathon today? I call the shower first!"

I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him from getting up quite yet. "That does sound nice but I think I would rather go into work."

He pulls himself to sit, leaning against the wall, and looks up. I can plainly see that he does not think it is a good idea, but he is careful in his response.

"Gibbs said not to come in today, and might I remind you that it will not be your hide on the line if I bring you in." He looks over and raises his eyebrow for playful emphasis.

"I have been thinking, Tony. You came to rescue me when I was imprisoned but that poor Marine had no savior. She deserves the peace of having her tormenter behind bars. We can help her. I need to help her."

His hand hesitates then rests on my knee. I kick myself because I know he is being careful so that I will not flinch again at his touch. "Ziva, it's just one more day to rest then we can avenge anyone you'd like. You haven't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday since we fell asleep before I even got the pizza in the oven. You're exhausted and Ducky said you need to rest for a few days, besides," He flashes me a flirtatious smile, "How often does Gibbs _order_ us to hang out together?"

I do not respond, but return his winning smile with a determined grin of my own. I understand his struggle. He feels that he needs to protect me, he does not want to suffer Gibbs' wrath, yet he also does not want me to resent him for controlling my situation. Despite all his heroic sensibilities, he will relent. I would never admit to this out loud, but I know that I am his weakness. He will not tell me no. He sighs shaking his head in defeat. He then meets my eyes, "Tell you what, Ziva, let's get showered and dressed, then we will talk about it."

"Fair enough. But I am warning you, do not use all the hot water or it will be you in Ducky's care today!" I say with an arched brow. He made a mock-scared face and left the room.

I make the bed, tidy the apartment and heat the oven. It is already 11 and I have to admit, I am starving . . . no I have starved before, but I have not been this hungry since then. Tony does not take long but I hear him singing his own "Sound of Music" medley in an exaggerated opera voice. I know it is his way to try to persuade me to stay home. It does not work, but I do appreciate the effort and hum along.

Tony comes out barefoot, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, proving that he had not expected to go to NCIS today. He rubs his hair dry with a towel. I smile despite myself as I think of how ruggedly handsome he looks when it is messy. He takes the pizza from my hands, puts it in the oven and says, "You may want to hurry, Ninja. I stayed in there until it turned lukewarm." He throws me his towel to hang up, I whip him with it then saunter out of the room to take my turn.

The hot shower feels refreshing. As the water skims down my skin I am more and more convinced that I am making the right decision. I do not linger over my scars this time. They have been appropriately mourned, and deserve no more pity. I find that I am still humming "Doe, a deer, a female deer . . .

Tony is sitting on the couch, half a slice of meat lovers already consumed. I go to the kitchen, find him a soda and pour a glass of water for myself before sitting next to him. Oh, the pizza tastes so good. I wolf down my first piece. Tony looks at me, impressed. We eat in a comfortable silence.

"So, am I allowed to go to work, or am I on house arrest?" I arch an eyebrow in a playful warning that he had better pick the right option.

Instead of a playful answer he puts his drink down, turns to face me and his gaze holds such intensity that I give him my full attention. He takes my hand again and strokes his thumb back and forth. He may have found my Achilles heel.

"I know you're feeling better today and you're willing to risk more anxiety if it means catching this monster. You never back down from a personal mission, and I admire that about you. But, Ziva, to tell you the truth, I am not sure I can handle watching you go through anything like that again. Yesterday you scared me half to death. You were shaking so badly and you passed out cold. To be honest, even though you feel ready, _I_ could use at least one more day with you to settle _my _nerves." He had a vulnerable look in his eyes and it was having an effect.

I started remembering how I had felt when I thought it was his charred body in that exploded car years ago. I understand what he is saying and I feel my determination soften and my thumb begins to soothe his.

"Tony, thank you for taking care of me yesterday, for calming me, for letting me unload on you, even drool on you." That at least earned a smirk. "I promise you that I would not consider going to work if I did not think that I would be capable of handling myself. Tony, I am nervous and I do fear all the eyes that will be on me when I walk in the building after I made such a scene yesterday, but I just want to get it over with so I can put this behind me. I cannot promise that my hands will not shake or that I will be unaffected, but you will be with me, and I have no doubt that you can rescue a swooning heroine twice in as many days."

This brought a reluctant smile to his face. He narrowed his eyes at me, knowing I was using his chivalry against him.

"Besides, it has been, more than 24 hours since Gibbs ordered you to baby sit me, so I think your hide will indeed survive."

"You are sure this is what you want?"

"Yes."

"Can I at least ask you a few favors since I'm reluctantly going along with this?

"Anything."

"We will only stay until 5 unless I see that you're tired, then you'll let me take you home earlier."

"Okay, but it had better be due to more than a yawn."

"Fine, second, you have to talk to Gibbs right when we get there to see if he's okay with this. He's in charge of this investigation and he will be worried about you. That may cause too much distraction for him and actually slow down the investigation."

"I will agree to any terms Gibbs sets for me."

"Thirdly, Tonight. You and me. Musicals."

"Agreed."

He had to at least try one more time. "You're sure?"

"Yes"

He pats my knee, stands then grabs my hands to pull me up. "Alright then. Let's go."


	13. Coping

**A/N Just a few bits and bobs before I continue:**

**There was a question about Ziva liking musicals. There was an episode (Hiatus?) where Tony stopped her from singing "The Hills are Alive . . ." so I based it on that.**

**One caveat on this chapter – I am NOT a psychologist and have never had a panic attack, so I am flying by the seat of my pants at the "explanations" I provide. I wanted Ducky to somewhat justify how Ziva can get over this without a long drawn out recovery. I also wanted a chapter with Ducky because I miss hearing British accents on a daily basis. At least this way I can hear it in my mind as I type. I just hope the chapter isn't proper rubbish!**

Chapter 13

Coping

(McGee's POV)

I take a few minutes to eat my vending machine lunch and suddenly I feel very tired. I should not complain, after all I did get some sleep last night. I woke up this morning in Abby's lab. She must have placed Burt under my head and covered me with a sheet from autopsy before curling up herself in her office. I only meant to catch a quick nap, but I ended up sleeping for 5 hours. I wasn't about to go home last night. If I wasn't thoughtful enough to protect Ziva at the crime scene, the least I can do is catch this guy so that she will be able to come back to work sooner. At least I hope she will be coming back to work.

When I had walked into the bullpen at 6, Gibbs looked like he had been up for hours and he was also in the same clothes he wore yesterday. We haven't talked much this morning, but it hasn't been as awkward as yesterday.

_It seemed like one minute Tony was annoying me with spitballs and the next he was carrying Ziva's unconscious body to the gurney. How could I have been so thoughtless? Gibbs' words replayed in my head like a broken_ record_, "I don't know, McGee, you were in there collecting evidence. What did you see when you walked in?" _

_It must have been obvious to everyone else that it was some sort of Post Traumatic Stress breakdown. I hadn't considered that Ziva would be that fragile. I still thought of her as superhuman, indestructible, the only thing missing from her battle skills, confidence and exotic accent was a cape._

_I guess Somalia was her kryptonite. I could almost hear Tony in my head, "Good one, McSidekick!"_

_How long have I been an agent? I had no excuse. I could not help but think that without social intuition, I'd never really be qualified for this, no matter how many degrees from MIT I earned. Maybe the cyber unit was a better fit. I really don't care if people think I am a geek or else I would have quit working with Tony years ago. I just never wanted to hurt anyone I cared about again from lack of observation. Tony and Gibbs were right. I had been insensitive._

_When Gibbs released me to go back into the barn, Ducky came in soon after. I did not look at him, and I definitely did not want to talk. He did._

"_Timothy, she will recover. In fact it may even be a good thing that this has happened."_

_I spun around, not believing what I heard. "Ducky, how can you say that? She looked terrible. Has she come out of it and said anything?"_

"_No, but rest assured, she is in good hands." He addressed the victim, "Oh my dear, you have suffered terribly, and were not so fortunate as to have a heroic rescue, as was our Ziva."_

_I knew that was said for my benefit, but I did not want to be consoled. "Ducky. I know I was there to help rescue her, but how have I helped her since she got back? Have there been other times when we've been at crime scenes and I haven't noticed her panicking? It seemed like things had gotten more or less back to normal, so I guess I assumed she was sort of, over it."_

"_Ah, the mind is very complex, Timothy. Events and memories affect everyone differently, and even though we all have properly respected Ziva's need for some emotional distance, I can assure you that Gibbs has had an eye on her, and that she has been his responsibility, not yours." _

_He paused, "Time of Death approximately 18-24 hours ago."_

"_What's going to happen to her now?"_

"_Well, the mind is not a computer hard drive. There is no one way that emotional trauma is dealt with. I know you find comfort in formulas and concrete resolutions, but unfortunately in psychology they seldom exist."_

_He sensed my frustration and continued, "Ziva has endured so much abuse in her life, Timothy, that some level of trauma sadly has become commonplace. While this is a tragic state of affairs, it has given her an advantage. She had long ago established coping techniques out of necessity. And now she has the advantage of being surrounded by people that care deeply about her and I believe that will make all the difference."_

"_I still don't understand how a nervous breakdown is a good thing."_

"_Ziva is not naturally open about her feelings, and her coping mechanisms before this had not included trusting other people, or considering how stressful events had affected her. Those were considered weaknesses in her former life. This panic attack is simply her body's way of physically communicating to us what she could not express vocally. As a result, we now know that she is ready to admit that she needs our support. That, my dear boy, is progress."_

_I shook my head, trying to get it back to the case. _

_Ducky resumed his analysis of the victim and I couldn't help but think that this one-sided conversation could have been directed at Ziva's body if our mission in Somalia ended differently. The past months had lessened the horror of it for me, but I was soberly reminded that the memory remains a harsh reality for Ziva. _

_After his initial findings Ducky went out to see if the gurney was available. He rolled it in, and asked for my help in moving the body._

"_I take it Ziva regained consciousness? Did she go to the hospital? _

"_No, I believe she'll be better cared for at home. I'd wager that Anthony would look after her more diligently than any professional health care provider." Ducky raised an eyebrow meaningfully, and I had to smile and nod in agreement. "And I would request that despite your concern, that you and Abigail refrain from giving either of them a bell for a few days. Ziva needs to convalesce, and she will be in no doubt of your concern for her even if she does not hear your own lips profess it directly."_

"_Sure, I'll talk to Abby when I get back. Actually, it just occurred to me that Tony must have taken our car. I'll go back with you and give Abby a jump on analyzing the evidence we've collected so far then bring another car back to the crime scene for later."_

"_Splendid." _

_Ducky and I walked out, passing Gibbs who grunted his approval at my plan. I heard his voice in my head again, "I don't know, McGee, you were in there collecting evidence. What did you see when you walked in?" I vaguely wondered if I would be next in line for the shrink._


	14. Compatriots

**A/N Here is the second half of Timmy's guilt trip. After this I'll get back to Ziva.**

Chapter 14

Compatriots

(Still McGee POV – continues flashback from the day before)

_During the ride back to the lab Ducky told stories of his compatriots and how they dealt with various trials of war, while I had my mind on my own compatriot at NCIS, and how I was going to relay Ziva's situation to her without causing yet another crisis. I needed to tell her, but I didn't know if I could handle any more emotional stress. That sounded awful considering my stress is the result of worrying about the greater suffering of another, but I had to keep my mind on work, and to do that I needed to stay emotionally grounded. _

_I reluctantly walked into Abby's lab armed with evidence bags and no real plan of attack. _

"_Hey, McGee! I've missed you guys, [hug] it's been lonely in here today. Whatta you got for me?" She took the camera's memory card first and popped it in her computer and started clicking through the photos. _

"_Wow, McGee, I know you're a super genius and all, but didn't they cover how to take a digital picture in all your computer classes at MIT?"_

_I winced as I realized that she was looking at Ziva's pictures._

"_Actually, Gibbs took most of the pictures." _

"_I thought you taught him better than this. Why are your ears going red? Timmy . . . you're keeping something from me."_

"_Urgh, Abby, How do you always do that? I just needed a few more minutes to figure out how to tell you." _

"_Timmy, it's not in your nature to lie, face it, you're terrible at it, so what are you not telling me?"_

_I sigh and lean against the table, "First you have to promise me that you will not freak out."_

_The color (what little there is of it) left her face. " Who's been shot? How badly are they hurt? Of course I can't promise not to freak out, I don't know what I'm not supposed to freak out about!"_

_I put my hands on Abby's arms and gently held her still, looked her straight in the eye and said as calmly as I could, "No one has been shot, no one is in the hospital." She relaxed and I lowered my hands. _

"_The first pictures were taken by Ziva, and they are blurry because her hands were shaking. I don't know exactly what happened, but I guess the crime scene reminded her of her time in Somalia and she had some sort of a breakdown. She passed out for a while, but she's fine now, she is at home and Tony is staying with her. Ducky checked her out at the scene and said she was okay, but would be worn out. He asked us not to call her or Tony for a few days."_

_I was surprised not to get interrupted during my explanation, and even more surprised when she seemed calm and didn't respond right away._

"_Okay, I know I asked you not to freak out, but I didn't expect you to be more calm after I told you."_

_She still didn't speak but slowly gave me a long hug, and sighed, more proof that I just do not get the women in my life, not nearly as well as I should. Tony would have seen that coming a mile away. I wrapped my arms around her, closed my eyes and realized that I needed the comfort as well. I don't know how long we stayed like that, it could have been a minute, five minutes, I really didn't care. I let her break the embrace. When she was ready to talk, she wiped her eyes and said, "Okay, I'm okay now. Thanks for telling me. I take it they will both be gone for a while?"_

"_I really don't know. Gibbs wouldn't talk to me after it happened."_

_She stood squarely in front of me, put her hands on her hips, squinted her eyes and said, "Timothy, what did you do?"_

_I couldn't look at her so I started pacing around, rubbing my palm on my forehead. "It's more what I didn't do. I walked into the barn with Ziva, and I didn't notice the similarities between this crime scene and her torture in Somalia. I was so focused on getting the technical part of the job done that I didn't see that she was upset. When Gibbs walked in, he saw it right away and sent her out. Next thing I knew Tony was calling for help and carrying Ziva, who had passed out. Gibbs is mad at me for not looking after her."_

_Abby was still standing with her hands on her hips, but she was tapping her pinky, a sign that her wheels were turning. She squinted at me almost playfully, "I was going to give you a talking to, but I see you've been beating yourself up already so I'll go easy on you. First of all," she reached out and slapped my head then pointed at my face for emphasis, "You cannot compare yourself to the great and powerful Gibbs. He has more than a sixth sense, he's got seventh, eighth and ninth senses. Knowing Ziva, she tried very hard to look normal so you might not have noticed anything even if you were looking. Secondly, Gibbs hasn't talked to you yet because he knows you feel bad and you need to punish yourself. He's letting you beat yourself up so you'll get over the guilt faster." _

_I said sarcastically, "Oh, sure, Abby, because that makes perfect sense."_

_Her finger pointed again sharply for emphasis. "Agh! Timmy, stop doubting me! The sooner you get over yourself, the more useful you'll be to Gibbs and the investigation."_

"_Thirdly, the real reason I'm not panicking is that honestly, McGee, this may not be such a bad thing." _

_I must have looked as incredulously as I felt as I wondered what was wrong with everyone. I started pacing and my arms were flying. I did not expect to be the one freaking out, or Abby to be so calm, but nothing was making sense. "This is NOT a good thing. Ziva is suffering, suffering is bad, how does that not make sense to you people!"_

_Abby put her hands on my arms this time and looked me in the eyes. "Just hear me out. I mean, she was severely tortured for all those months, then afterwards she walked around here with a smile on her face trying not to let on that anything was wrong? I accidentally found out some of it, and she swore me to secrecy. I knew things were wrong, but I couldn't tell anyone. She promised me that she would talk to Tony, so actually I'm relieved that now she won't be able to avoid him any longer. Don't get me wrong, I'm still super worried about her, but I know she will feel better once she gets it all talked out." _

_At that point I was just tired and ready to end the conversation. _

"_Timmy, you don't need to understand it all, but you do need another hug before you head back out to the scene. You'll be short handed so let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you guys."_

_She reached out and hugged me again. She waited for me to break the embrace this time, which I did reluctantly. I did feel better after talking to Abby so maybe there was some merit in psychology. I would have to think about that later, after the case was solved. _

_I drove back to the crime scene with more supplies, ready to work through the night. Gibbs had made a lot of progress by the time I had returned, and I tried not to feel guilty about that on top of everything else. I wondered if Gibbs knew anything more about Ziva, but I knew better than to ask him for any details. I had never seen him as focused or as silent as he was the rest of the day, and that's saying a lot._

_When we finished processing the scene Gibbs finally uttered a sentence, "Let's wrap it up." We drove back to NCIS in silence. He looked like he was lightly sleeping and for the first time I saw the lines of worry etched around his closed eyes. This was not the first time he had had a serious concern about an agent's well being, or for Ziva's for the matter, but it was obvious that the years of looking after us were taking its toll on him. _

_There is an unspoken vow between us to protect the women on our team. You can choose to call it chauvinism or chivalry, but after Kate and Jenny's deaths, Abby's close calls with a few psychos, and Ziva's imprisonment, we can't take another loss. Tony and I, and Ducky for that matter, take this mission very seriously, but Gibbs would never forgive himself for another failure. He's never forgiven himself for any of them, even when he was powerless to prevent them. There would always be something in his mind that he could have done. And now while he's left to his own struggle with guilt and remorse, I am the only person that can help him with this investigation, so whether Ducky and Abby are right or not about Ziva's pain being a good thing, I need to shoulder the responsibility on this one._

_I parked the car and Gibbs woke instantly. We unloaded the gear and I gathered all the evidence to drop off at Abby's lab. It was after midnight and Gibbs and I were both beat. While in the elevator Gibbs surprised me by flicking the emergency stop, lowering his head for a minute, sighing then wiping a tired hand down his face. He looked me in the eye, placed his hand firmly on my shoulder and said, "Good work today, Tim." He flicked the switch again before my tired mind could formulate a reply. I made it to Abby's lab, handed everything over then succumbed to the lure of her futon. _

After reliving my memories I realize that my meager vending machine feast has ended. I run to the local coffee shop to pick up another cup of coffee for Gibbs and cup of sugar with coffee for me. When I return I pull up the crime scene photos again. There are some odd markings in the skin that I couldn't quite place. Then I heard it

***Ding***


	15. Close Quarters

**A/N For you civilians, "Quarters" are orders issued to a military member by a medical professional to excuse them from reporting to duty for a specified time frame.**

Chapter 15

15 minutes earlier

Close Quarters

(Ziva's POV)

I get in and shut the car door and the anxiety builds as Tony starts the motor. He pats my leg and smiles. We ride in silence but Tony keeps a furtive eye on me. When he parks the car he turns towards me, places a calming hand on my leg, clears his throat then says, "I know you're nervous, so tell me how I can help once we get in there. Do you want me to talk to people before you come in, or do you just want me to stay out of the way so you can talk to everyone as you come across them?"

I prop my elbow on the window and lean my head in my hand. "I am dreading walking in and facing everyone after I acted so dramatically. I know that people will want an excuse, but I just want everything to get back to normal. If you can keep things light I would appreciate it."

"An excuse? Seriously?' He shifts in his seat, either in discomfort or frustration. He is picking his words carefully yet again. I wish he would just speak and not treat me as though I were fragile. I sigh, okay, given the events of the past few days perhaps he is being wise and I need to cut him some slacks. "They are worried about you, Ziva, and honestly, if you pretend like nothing has happened, or if I pretend like you're fine, they won't buy it. You need to be able to talk to them or they won't trust you. Showing vulnerability to friends is a sign of courage, not weakness. You won't find that in your American citizenship study guide, but I promise you that honesty among friends is part of the deal. You don't need to tell them everything," he smiles despite himself, "although if you need help removing your shirt again I'm always here for you."

He raises an eyebrow, we both smile and I smack his arm. "You are ever the gentleman, Anthony DiNozzo."

"Seriously, Tony, I do not have any sort of plan of action, although I am wishing I did. I do not know what to expect, or how people will react, or how to react to them. All I know is that I need to walk into those doors and I will feel better once I walk out after work. Perhaps it is better if I do not think it through. Let's just get this over with."

I open my car door to show that the conversation is over, but my hands start to shake as I get out of the car. I wipe them on my slacks but they will not still. We ride in the elevator alone. As soon as the doors close Tony smiles at me and gently holds my hand, not mentioning the tremors. I feel as though the THUMP THUMP of my heart is audible again, and I hope it will eventually subside. Before we arrive at our floor Tony reaches over and flips the emergency switch. He turns toward me, takes both my hands in his and says, "Ziva, if it gets too much for you, I will find an excuse to take you home."

"Thank you, Tony." I pull him into an embrace and consider how many times I have uttered those words to him in the past 24 hours. He holds me, his chin resting on my hair. He kisses the top of my head, then as I pull away he smiles again, "Ready?"

I answer by flipping the switch. Tony rubs my back then drops his hand as the doors open.

***Ding**

With one last stolen glance we walk out of the elevator. Gibb's back is to us but McGee sees and has that confused puppy look on his face. He turns quickly and shuts off the monitor, but not before I see the unmistakable crime scene photos. I smile at Tim's consideration.

He addresses Gibbs but his eyes stay on me. "Uh, Boss, didn't you tell them NOT to come in today."

Gibbs turns around with a stern look on his face, "Yes, McGee, I did. Tell Ducky we're on our way down." He walks intently towards us, and double head slaps Tony.

"Hey, Don't look at me!" Tony says with his hands in the air showing his innocence, "As soon as twenty-four hours were up she used some sort of ninja mind trick on me."

"So I guess that makes you a weak-minded fool, DiNozzo?" Headslap number 3

He looks at me, "My office."

I follow dutifully. "You too, Han Solo."

He pulls the emergency stop, looks at both of us. "Do I have to put you on Quarters, Agent David?"

"Of course not, Gibbs. I am fine."

"Ziva, you've been saying that you're fine for months, so forgive me if I don't take your word for it this time." I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up his hand to cut me off. "Before we even discuss what you think you're doing here, you will be checked out by Ducky. If he doesn't knock some sense into you, I will. First stop is autopsy."

He flips the switch and faces forward for the rest of the ride leaving Tony and me standing in the back. Tony dares to reach over and touch my fingers lightly and I hook my little finger with his until the carriage stops. Despite his silent assurance, I brace myself for what is to come.


	16. Steeping

**A/N Reviews are very encouraging. Thanks to all who took the time to write them. This one is dedicated to Scotland. **

**Chapter 16**

Steeping

(Ziva's POV)

The three of us walk into autopsy, where Ducky has just slid a body into a compartment and latched the door. I try not to think of who is inside. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

"Ah, Ziva, it is so nice to see you are recovering. How are you feeling, My Dear?" He gently takes my hand, kisses it and leads me in further.

"Much better Ducky, thank you."

"Jethro, would you and Anthony excuse us? I have a particular pot of tea steeping and I believe that Ziva is the only one who could fully appreciate it. I have a brother who defected to England years ago and he has sought mother's forgiveness for it by sending us parcels from Betty's Tea Room in Harrogate ever since. As much as I prefer Scottish blends, I have to admit to taking tea at Betty's a time or two while breaking my journey from Scotland to London. I only regret that I do not have proper scones to serve with it. I never understood why American scones are triangular and so dry . . ."

Gibbs and Tony leave part way through the explanation, thankful that they do not need to stay for a chat about tea. I appreciate the normalcy of Ducky's ramblings and the fact that our discussion has nothing to do with torture. I start to relax for the first time since I left my apartment.

"But Ducky, you and your mother are living in America. Is that not considered treasonous as well?"

"Heavens no! Until America unjustly invades Scotland and oppresses her for years on end, it will remain neutral ground."

"I am glad to hear it since I will soon be an American and I would hate for that to come between us." I give my dear friend a genuine smile.

"Even if you had invaded Scotland during your military days, I would never hold it against you. You are too precious to me to consider turning you out for any reason."

He returns my smile but I break eye contact and shift uncomfortably in my seat when he calls me "precious." Honestly? I am much more accustom to being praised for being accurate, detached, hot and even lethal, but I do not recall ever being called "precious," and it does not sit well.

He finishes pouring the tea and thankfully returns to chatting. He is lamenting the idiotic concoction of iced tea and the regrettable American habit of serving a cup of tea with the bag in it rather than steeping it properly in a pot then pouring it.

After we sit in silence with our tea he then starts "checking me out" as I believe Gibbs called it.

"Ziva, I did not hope to see you anywhere but home for a few days. I tended to you while you were unconscious, and you suffered no light swoon, My Dear."

"Thank you, Ducky, for looking after me. Tony did fill in the spaces for me and I appreciate what everyone has done for me. I have never had a panic attack before and I promise you that I do not intend to go through it again."

Ducky is giving me that soft grandfatherly look and I focus on my teacup to escape the unwarranted affection his eyes convey.

"Were you able to talk to Anthony or did he choose to medicate you with an overdose of pizza and films?"

"Tony has been very supportive. Thank you for letting me stay at home with him rather than sending me to a hospital."

"Yes, well, I am wondering if it was a wise decision since you chose to come into work today. Just between us, I do not believe Anthony could ever refuse any request of yours. If you were elsewhere, returning to work so soon would not have been an option. I can tell that Jethro does not think this is a good idea and is hoping that I will send you home on medical grounds. His position is clear so it is now up to you to convince me that it is in your best interest to stay."

"Ducky, I admit that since my return I have felt anxious at crime scenes that are in dark, enclosed spaces. I have not wanted to appear weak and so I have kept that and other details to myself. I am guessing that you are familiar with all the methods of torture used on me in Somalia, yes? " I give him a very pointed look.

His eyes start watering and he says, "Yes, sadly, My Dear, I am."

I speak very carefully and evenly. "Until yesterday I had not told anyone any details of my captivity since being debriefed in the hospital in Africa. I did not see the need to talk about any of it since the others were in the camp and could fill in the spaces for themselves. No one asked me, and I was not willing to bring it up. I hoped that eventually I would not think about that period of my life anymore, and it would eventually . . .blow over?" Ducky nods at my correct use of the phrase. "Blocking out mission failures and torture has always worked before but I did not realize how ineffective it has been recently. I believe this culture and a distance from Mossad have affected me, and I need to adjust the way I handle stressful situations."

"That is a very astute analysis, but you still have not convinced me that you need to return to work today."

"Ducky, I talked to Tony, I told him everything, and I am truly feeling much better. I can assure you that he is not going to let me out of his sight for long. As far as why I want to be here today, I need to be able to catch the killer for this case. You can call it revenge or catharsis, but I have to help her." I nod towards where I know her body is resting.

"Well, you do give a convincing argument. Would you permit me to get your blood pressure and do a cursory medical exam?"

"Of course, Ducky."

Aside from elevated blood pressure attributable to stress, I pass medical inspection. Ducky offers me his hand as I stand up. As we walk towards the sliding glass doors, Ducky pauses, steps in front of me and puts his hand on my shoulder. "You need to take care of yourself, Ziva." He points his finger at me accusingly and playfully continues, "I have my spies and I will hear if you are not pacing yourself sensibly. Unlike Agent DiNozzo, I will not hesitate to deny your request despite how many times you flutter your eyelashes."

"I promise to behave. Thank you for the tea and the company." I kiss his cheek before we resume our walk.

I see Tony and Gibbs, both with arms crossed, leaning against the wall. They respectfully stood out of my line of sight in autopsy, but were ready to escort me once I was finished. They both snap to attention at the sound of the door. Ducky talks first, "Jethro, may I speak with you for a moment?" He nods, walks past and gives away nothing of what is going through his mind. I take his place against the wall. lean my head back and close my eyes, resting myself to prepare for the impending onslaught I will no doubt receive from Gibbs.

Tony turns towards me and leans one shoulder on the wall, "Did Ducky say you were okay to come back?"

"Yes, I think he is trying to convince Gibbs right now."

"That will be a hard sell. You do look beat, and that's after 'work' consisting of an English cup of tea and an exam by Ducky. It's only going to get harder from here." He smiles to try to keep things light.

I blink then close my eyes again and respond in a slightly annoyed tone, "Tony . . ."

"Sorry, Sleeping Beauty."

In truth, his implication my be appropriate since I am too knackered to think of a comeback.


	17. Concessions

**A/N I have written out the next several chapters rather quickly so I am hoping they are not too redundant or tedious. The thing I like about NCIS is that all the characters have unique relationships with each other and I cannot realistically isolate just a few of them and give the whole picture.**

Chapter 17

Concessions

(Ziva's POV)

The doors open and Gibbs storms out, walks towards the stairwell and barks, "Let's go." Tony shrugs at me then follows.

When we reach the ground floor Gibbs opens the door, looks at Tony and says, "Not you. Go back to your desk and do whatever McGee tells you to."

As I follow Gibbs out of the stairwell I hear, "Yes, Boss." As the stairwell doors close on him.

We walk outside and turn towards the park. I am unsettled since most significant conversations with Gibbs tend to happen in the elevator or his basement. I have been on countless unpredictable missions, yet this whole day is uncharted territory for me. When we enter the park he leads me to an isolated picnic table and we sit opposite each other.

His eyes are still determined, but gentle. He hesitates then lightly places his hand over mine.

"Ziver, you have nothin' to prove to anyone. Let Tony take you home and you can come back on Monday."

I am not unaffected, but I shake my head, "Gibbs, you have gone to great lengths to save and protect me, but this is something I must do. If I help catch this killer, I will be satisfied knowing that I did something to save other women from the same fate I suffered. Please, Gibbs, you, Tony and McGee will be watching me like eagles and I will agree to back off if you feel that I become a hindrance to the investigation."

I try to continue sensibly, but I cannot keep passion from my words. The tremors threaten to return, and I know his fingers register this betrayal.

"Gibbs, I need to be useful and I have no boat to build out of frustration. I need to work or I will sit at home and wallow in self-pity. I cannot promise that I will never be uneasy at a crime scene, that my hands will never shake," I stretch the fingers on my free hand for emphasis, "or that I will not be a burden to any of you, but I need to press through this."

I know he understands the need to feel constructive to counter times of helplessness. He turns his head slightly and presses his lips together. He looks back at me, and I see he is conflicted. He continues, also not unaffected, "Ziva, you have never been a burden, you have been difficult and obstinate at times, and if my hair was not already this color I'm pretty sure you would have given me more gray hairs than all my other agents combined, but a burden is not worth the worry, and you are. You scared us half to death yesterday. It can never get that bad again. Do you understand? DiNozzo and McGee were nervous wrecks and beating themselves up for not protecting you. They didn't go to a terrorist camp in Africa to save a coworker, Ziva, that risk is only worth it for someone who is truly valuable."

I wipe a reluctant tear away. First Ducky calls me precious and now this. I do not like how this is affecting me. I have not earned these sentiments. They feel foreign and misdirected, they need to be because if I start believing them, who will I become? I have always held affection at a distance, always considered it as potential for manipulation, but now there is this man in front of me, and in him I see no pretense.

Another tear falls and I wipe it away with an unsteady hand. "Ducky cleared you to come back, and Tony seems to think that you told him enough. That tells me you're still willing to follow orders and it will get you out of another official psych evaluation . . . for now. However, I am not gonna let you work on this case unsupervised, it's too close to home. I will be watching you, Tony will be watching you, and you can bet that McGee will have both his eyes on you. You are not to be alone whether at your desk or in the head, I don't care. You will back off when any one of us tells you to, or else you'll be stuck at home with Tony again and I'll guarantee it will not be musicals this time."

"Of course. Thank you, Gibbs." I start to get up but he encloses my hand firmly in his to stop me.

"We are not done. Sit. There will be extra rules for you during this case."

This must be where the other boot drops.

He now has his arms crossed, showing authority in the face of defeat, I suppose. "First, you will only work five hours a day. You didn't take enough time off when you returned from Africa so you'll take some now. Ducky made it clear that you still need to take it easy, so that is not negotiable."

I am feeling like a scolded child, yet I never felt such concern motivating Eli's lectures. Gibbs has earned my respect and loyalty so I do not resent his condescension. "Second, you will NOT look at any of the crime scene photos. We will process more sensitive evidence when you're not at work. Third you will NOT be present at any interrogations. I do not want to be worried about how you're reactin' while I'm pressing a suspect. Fourth, and this one will stay in effect even after this case. You _will tell me_ if _anything_ makes you nervous at a crime scene. No more acting tough. You are human just like the rest of us, and it's about time you started acting like it. I will not let you risk your health for the sake of pride. Finally, today you will talk to Abby and McGee and tell them the rules I have set up for you, along with your fear of dark enclosed rooms and anything else we need to know. That will be your only mission for today then Tony will take you home and you can both start back tomorrow at noon. By the looks of him I'd say he needs some extra down time as much as you do."

Aha, he took the stairs and walked me to the park so that I would not feel threatened in the cramped elevator, again showing more kindness than I deserve. "I will follow your rules without exception, but I would like to make one request. Could you please let Tony work full days so that you will no longer be down two agents on this case? Babysitting me is no longer necessary and working is a much better use of his time."

"Okay, DiNozzo can come in early after tomorrow, but he is to pick you up at noon and take you home at 5."

I raise my palm in protest. "Gibbs, that is not necessary, I can certainly drive myself in."

"I'm sure you can, and once you start showing me better judgment, you will earn more independence. Ziva, the team cannot lose you again and I will do everything in my power to make sure that does not happen, even if that means I have to babysit you myself. If it makes you feel any better, I'm also doing it to get DiNozzo out by 5 for a while."

His mouth hitches to the side and he says, "You know you're making me look bad. I have a breakdown and run to Mexico for three months, you take a day then fight to come back the next." He shakes his head and almost smiles at me, walks around the table, offers his hand again, then pulls me up and into a gentle hug, kisses my hair and whispers, "Let the rest of us take the heavy lifting for a while."

I reply, "ken, yadid yakar"

We walk slowly back to the office in a comfortable silence. Gibbs awkwardly puts his arm around me and squeezes my shoulder as we leave the park.

**A/N – I know no Hebrew, so "Yes, Dear Friend" is a translation based on my googling efforts. It may possibly say something like, "Yes, crab leg" for all I know for certain, so correct me if I'm off on that one. **


	18. Hope

Chapter 18

Hope

Gibbs POV

I was wrong. Resilient is too mild a word to describe her. I had every intention of marching her right out the door when I saw her come in today and making DiNozzo suffer for not taking care of her, but here I am, walking her back into the office myself. I really don't know if I should be more proud or frustrated. I slightly shake my head at the thought. I've been doing a lot of that lately.

She has never been predictable. I knew Ziva would talk to Tony so she could get out of seein' a shrink but I had expected her to bully him into as little conversation as possible. I must have been wrong because her defenses are down. I expected her to fight me tooth and nail, but she's accepting limitations. I think back to my conversation outside of autopsy.

_Tony crossed his arms, leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and sighed, probably louder than he meant to. I waited. Tony always has to get things talked out and it had to have been an intense day for him, and he doesn't do intensity well. He looks terrible, almost as bad as Ziva does._

"_She did talk to me, Gibbs, I mean really talked. I don't know how helpful I was, but aside from being worn out, I think she really does feel better. I know you're not happy with me right now for bringing her in. I tried to talk her out of it, believe me, I even bribed her with musicals but nothing worked."_

_I didn't respond, just waited for the next wave._

"_What was I supposed to do? You know how she gets when she's determined and after yesterday I just didn't want to boss her around. I couldn't demand that she not come, or force her to stay away. She respects you since you have that whole distinguished looking boss thing going on, so if you order her home she'll go, otherwise I don't know what else I can do to convince her."_

_He started to wrap things up. . ._

"_Thanks for letting me stay with her. If had I stayed at the crime scene I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on the case anyway." He slyly shifted his eyes towards me to check my expression. It had not changed, but inside I was trying not to laugh at his obvious attempt to test the "rule 12" waters. That was the least of my concerns. "What do you want me to do from here, Boss? Will I be driving her home, working the case, or keeping her drowning in paperwork?"_

"_Depends on Ducky but I'm guessing you'll be taking her home. Beyond that I don't know." I turned towards him, "DiNozzo, you look like crap. Maybe I'll put you on quarters too." He didn't protest._

_We stood in silence until the doors opened and Ducky waved me in and, I admit, surprised me with his assessment._

"_Seriously! You were there and saw how bad she was, how can you say she's okay to be here?" I gave him the death stare. It got the message across, but it never has an effect on Ducky._

"_Jethro, I do not make this recommendation lightly, I did do an exam and talked with her at length, and I would advise you to do the same. I'd wager that those pleading eyes will have the same effect on you as they have had on Anthony and myself, despite your determination otherwise._

I know this hasn't passed in a matter of a day. She'll still be reserved, and really I don't blame her. For two people who aren't related by blood, we are very similar, and I cannot expect her to change anymore than I expect myself to. We don't function that way, pain has a way of driving us, making us better. The difference is that she is my responsibility. Some of my strengths I do not want to pass down. Do as I say, not as I do. In this case, I make no apologies for the double standard. Her pain is raw, and different than anything I went through. She's reached a breaking point, and I have to order her to cope. Not an easy thing to dictate, but at least Tony and McGee will help, and they are much better at that stuff than I am.

I've had to rethink how I manage the team since she came to us and I still don't know if I have it right. One thing that I have finally figured out through this is that Ziva and Abby may not be so different, after all. They need the same thing but for different reasons. Abby craves affection and Ziva shies from it. She doesn't want it but she needs it. All this touchy-feely stuff is not my thing any more than it is hers, but it's worth a shot if it may help her. I don't want her ever to cringe at one of our hands again, and the only way I can think to work on that is to make sure I at least touch her now and then, especially at crime scenes until it becomes normal for her, and me.

With that thought I slowly lift my arm and put it around her shoulders and she does not stiffen or pull away. There may be hope for us yet.


	19. McTension

**A/N This chapter was really hard to write so I hope it comes across as it sounds in my head. I realize that it would have taken longer than this for Ziva and Gibbs to return from their walk, but I couldn't fit lulls in the conversation and keep it fluid. So, just assume Tony took a detour then jumped in the elevator to go back up to their floor.**

Chapter 19

McTension

(Tony's POV)

Once the elevator doors close I flick the abused emergency stop switch. I have been in emotional overdrive and I need to get my head on straight. I pace the small area, scratch my hair then impulsively mess it up with both hands, I don't even know exactly why. Things are going alright under the circumstances, but circumstances themselves can be exhausting. I start to calm down, run my fingers through my hair to tame it once again, take a deep breath then flip the switch. Once these doors open again, McGee will want answers and I need to be as nonchalant as possible. I won't brush the kid off, I just need to make sure I don't worry him and if I'm too serious, he'll worry.

*Ding*

Probie's head pops up right on cue and I try to start talking as soon as possible so that he won't bombard me with questions until we're in our own bullpen area.

"Hey there Mc . . . Guy." I cringe as I say it. So much for smooth banter and clever distraction.

"Okay, Tony, now I'm seriously worried."

At least he waited until I reached my desk.

He leans on the edge of his desk and looks at me intently, "How is she?"

"I'm gonna let her field that one, Probie. She's with Gibbs right now and I'm not sure if he's ringing her neck or driving her home. She does have a way of getting his dander up."

I look at the empty desk with a sentimental grin, thinking about another woman whose sensible yet sarcastic voice I still hear in my head when I do or say something stupid, or need someone to state the obvious. We're both respectfully quiet for a few minutes. It's been long enough we can talk about her lightly, which is what she would have wanted anyway. She had never been much for gravity in the bullpen.

"Kate always followed the rules like a good Catholic school girl."

McGee is thrown off by the sudden mention of Kate while Ziva's life is in chaos. He responds having no idea where I'm going with this, "Except for times you'd pull her down with you into some prank or another."

"You would remember since they were all directed at you. Ahhh, I miss her, she was so predictable, and dependable."

"I miss her, too, Tony."

I wrinkle my brow in exaggerated thoughtfulness, "I think since then Gibbs' hair has gotten whiter. He definitely has wrinkles that weren't there before. What do you think, Probie?"

"We'll he's been through a lot since then, he's lost Director Sheperd, we've been split up a few times and it seems like he's been worried about Ziva ever since she walked through the door the first time."

Tim's head is tilted slightly which means he's thinking deeply. The banter must continue.

"Yes, well, our little Ziva is no obedient Catholic schoolgirl. Where Kate would say, 'Yes, Boss.' Ziva challenges his every decisions." I lean back in my chair with my fingers laced together behind my head. "She's got spunk. I like that, but I still wish Kate were here too. She was like the annoying sister I never knew I needed."

I hadn't expected to talk about Kate, but I think about who I was then and hope that if she could see me now she would find that that I'm no longer just some shallow frat boy, aside from the pranks and name calling, anyway. I hope she would have been proud of me for the past few days. I haven't done anything heroic, but I have been there for my partner, a gorgeous woman in a vulnerable state who I feel a strong attraction for, and I have had no selfish agenda.

"Tony, I know you're wishing Kate were here because you would want her advice. Really, what's going on, maybe I can help."

Okay, he's a bit more observant than I gave him credit for. "Not likely, unless you have a bra on under that slim designer shirt. No, scratch that, that would just be creepy."

I don't even get a smirk? Talk about a tough crowd. "Tony, is she mad at me?"

I answer with an exaggerated pondering tone to keep things light, "She would be if you took one of her bras just to get me to talk."

"Stop it, Tony. This is serious! Can you just for once stop goofing around and answer the question!"

Oh, I can be serious. "You know, McNosey, No, she hasn't mentioned you. She's been a bit busy talking about torture in Somalia to work through her feelings for you."

As soon as the words leave my mouth I wince. I've jumped right over the line from sarcasm to venom, and Tim doesn't deserve that, especially not two days in a row. So much for me growing up, maybe Kate wouldn't be so impressed after all. He turns away, pinches his nose and oh no, is he crying? He sits, quietly, his head in his hands and I think back to yesterday when I was sitting in that same position on Ziva's couch, sobbing. Okay, no more games or distractions.

I walk over, lean against the edge of the end of the desk, and look towards the stairs rather than invade his privacy.

"Tim, I didn't mean that."

He wipes his face, grabs a tissue and blows his nose. "Tony, I know you only get vindictive when you're dealing with grief. I get it, I do. But I do not need more guilt piled on me right now. I'm really tired, I have been worried sick about her and the only thing I can do to help is focus on the case."

I should have known better. He's miserable and had already been beating himself up for the insult I flung at him yesterday, so what do I do? Rather than say, "Good job, Little McEngine that Could," I cut him even deeper. I still have a long way to go.

I sigh in frustration at my insensitivity. "It's been a long couple of days for all of us. She isn't mad at you, she has no reason to be." I look at him straight to make sure he got the message. "She's still going through hell and had done a good job of hiding it. I don't even think Gibbs knew how bad it had gotten. This isn't over so we'll all need to keep a close eye on her for a while, even after this case has blown over. That, my McProtégé, is your mission." I poke his shoulder to no effect.

It just registered that both he and Gibbs are wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Sweet little McMuffin, he's being chivalrous in his own way by working around the clock. I have to respect the full on effort he's giving. I shake his shoulder, and try to sound casual and encouraging, "Hey, she's gonna be okay. We all have her back now."

"Tony, just remember that we have yours, too." Gibbs must be right, I must look pathetic for him to take pity on me. It kills me when he's nice like that, especially after I rip him to shreds for no good reason. It makes me start saying sappy nice things, then I catch myself upping the insults the next several days to save face. I will make a mental note to try not to do that this time.

"Thanks. Listen, there's one more thing that you should know since you're probably the only one that hasn't seen them or read her report. She's pretty scarred. If you ever see part of her back or stomach, well, I guess I just don't want you to be surprised or upset."

"Thanks for the head's up, Tony." He looks at me sideways, "Wait, when have you seen these scars?"

I saunter back to my desk and casually reply, "When I took her shirt off." With that I lean back in my chair, arms behind my head with a gloating, satisfied smirk.

His mouth opened but he had no words. His eyebrows were furrowed and we were back as we should be.

*Ding*


	20. Abbynormal

**A/N Okay, for something that I thought would be just a few chapters, this is getting a bit lengthy, and I know parts are repetitive, but hang in there, I will wrap it up nicely . . . eventually. **

Chapter 20

Abby-normal

(Ziva's POV)

As we walk out of the stairwell, I spot Tony sitting with a smug look on his face and McGee gaping like a codfish. They both look disheveled, but the scene is refreshingly normal. I relax as we enter the bull pen until I realize that whatever passed between them was perhaps not so benign. My guess is that Tony told Tim that we slept together. Ah well, for what I have dragged him through, I'll let him have some amusement at my expense. I give Tony a suggestive smile, wink at him and raise a seductive eyebrow to add authenticity to his claim. McGee cannot reconcile the seriousness of my trauma with my flirtatious actions at the moment. Keeping him in a state of confusion is also a refreshingly normal endeavor.

"Should I get my car keys or has the Ninja found another weak minded fool?"

Tony seems to realize right after the words escape his mouth that he actually said them out loud to Gibbs, who bores Tony with a look that confirms his poor judgment.

While keeping Tony in the death stare, he pulls a folder off his desk and flings it on mine. "You've had 24 hours to wink at him, Ninja, now get this down to Abby in the lab." Ah, my cue to go and talk to her.

I turn to leave then he says, "Wait! Romeo, go with her." Ah yes, if I need an escort to go to the head I definitely need one in the stairwell. Sigh.

Tony gets up, struts out of the bullpen and offers his arm with a flourish, "Shall we, Juliet?" I accept the proffered arm with a smile.

Despite not looking at us, Gibbs registers our actions. "Don't encourage him, Ziver."

We turn out of sight of the bullpen and chuckle at our mutual defiance.

Once we are in the stairwell Tony begins, "So, how bad was it? Are you really back to work?"

"We had a good discussion and like you, I know he does not think this is a good idea and would prefer that I not be here, but he respects my decision to help with the case."

"So that's it? You're just back? This is Gibbs, and he doesn't just lie down and take it if he's been manipulated. What's the catch?"

I look at him quizzically wondering how he knew since he was not privy to our conversation.

He continues, "Gibbs cares about you too much to throw you to the wolves, so what is it? Psych eval? Desk duty? Let me guess, I'm not coming along for the exercise?"

"You are correct. I have restricted hours and I must be chaperoned while at work,"

"What about at home?" He flashed a devious smile at me.

"He didn't mention it but perhaps McGee would like to baby sit me this evening . . . "

"Oh, that is low!"

"Abby then?"

"Better, but still not what I had in mind. Anyway, do you really want anyone else to know how much you drool in your sleep? That is a secret I'll take to my grave if you pick me." He flashes me a smile, calling my bluff.

I cross my arms and face him, "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, are you blackmailing me?"

"Yes I am. Is it working?"

I tap my foot, "I have not decided yet. You will be pleased to know that you will have the honor of picking me up and dropping me off for the rest of this case. Gibbs says I have to earn his trust back and until then I have to submit to the terms he has set, or else I will be punished with a psych evaluation. I believe he is attempting to annoy me into taking leave."

Tony laughs, "You're cut from the same cloth, both too stubborn to accept defeat in a battle of wills. You're lucky he didn't just turn you out. You really must have persuasive superpowers, at least when it comes to men." Another toothy smile is flashed my way. "I'm sure he'll enjoy seeing your pride pay a steep price as punishment for making him look soft. So what other _unreasonable_ limitations do you have?"

I know I will be repeating this conversation over and over today, but they all need to hear it from me, so I might as well get it over with. I give him the basics then finish with, "He says that I have to tell everyone what triggers me to panic. It is like I have to announce my weaknesses to the world, and that is a bitter gum to chew."

He reflexively says, "Pill to swallow. Never mind. No one thinks your weak, and if they did they wouldn't dare admit it because you'd have them on the ground in seconds, thus proving that you are not weak. Do ya see the irony?"

"Yes, Tony, but no matter how much I am generally respected, it does not make this any less humiliating." My frustration has morphed into a real sense of dread.

He stands in front of me and holds both my hands, to get my full attention. "Hey, you want to work on this case to help the victim, right? Think of this as giving everyone else a mission so that they can feel like they're doing something to help you." Leave it to Tony to spin this in a way that is palatable. "Do you want me to go in with you? I mean, if you had a hard time talking to Gibbs who is, let's face it, a little more lively than a brick wall, are you going to be ready for whatever comes at you once you open Abby's door?"

I squeeze his hands, "I do not have a choice and not just because it was another one of Gibbs' orders, but I want to put her mind at ease. Thank you for escorting me, but I need to talk to Abby alone. Even if it takes a lot out of me initially, I will be better for it in the long run, and you can rest assured that she will be a suitably overprotective guardian in your place."

"I'll just wait out here, if you don't mind."

"I do not know how long I will be and I am sure Abby can bring me back." He looks away and I can tell that he does not want to give up protection detail. "But you are welcome to stay if you wish."

"I will be right outside the lab if you need reinforcements."

Tony opens the door for me. Honestly, I am not sure I am up for this. Abby cannot do 'normal' in the best of circumstances so I need to brace myself.

The plasma screens are dark so I know she was alerted that I was on my way. Instead of the exuberant tackling embrace I was expecting, she walks to me at a normal pace then hugs me gently. I wonder if Gibbs warned her to go easy on me. She goes to the door, flashes a superior grin at Tony, then shuts and locks the door effectively cutting him off from our girl time.

"I'm so glad you're here. Are you okay? Did you talk to Tony? I've been so worried!"

"Abby, I am feeling very tired, but much better, thank you. You will be happy to know that I kept my part of the promise, and I have to admit it was much less painful than I had imagined it would be."

"Well, it is Tony we're talking about. When push comes to shove, he's the guy you want to spill your guts to. Did you tell him about how bad your injuries were? What did he say?"

"Abby, where is your hairbrush?" She retrieves it from her desk drawer, rolls her desk chair to the middle of the room then sits.

"I was just thinking that it felt like a French braid day!"

Aside from it being a nice gesture, selfishly I thought it would be easier to talk if I was not facing her. I take down her pigtails, brush her hair then start braiding.

"I know that Tim and Gibbs filled you in on the details of what happened. Gibbs ordered Tony to stay with me and so I had no excuse to dodge the conversation. I just showed him some of the scars and that told him about all he needed to know. He has been very sweet and supportive, but I am worried that his concern for me will wear him down."

She answers with a light matter of fact tone, "Ziva, I hate to tell you, but that's not just Tony's issue. They're all worried. In fact they look like they did last summer. McGee felt guilty for not realizing the scene might upset you. I've never seen him be so hard on himself. He fell asleep in the lab last night and I don't think he'll go home until the case is solved or his clothes cause a public sanitation violation. Gibbs has that weary paternal look about him while he silently focuses on what little he can do to help the situation. Ducky, well he's always concerned, but I'm sure Gibbs made you talk to him first and he would tell you exactly how he felt. I have been willing myself not to call because I know you're in good hands and Ducky asked Tim and me not to harass you with kindness for a few days. Do you know how hard it is for me NOT to talk to someone when I'm worried? Not calling out of love? How wrong does that sound? I guess in this case restraint was a good thing, but still, I want you to know that I'm here for you anytime."

I paused half way through the second braid, "Oh, Ziva, I didn't mean to make you feel guilty, we would do anything for you, we love you and you're part of this family and family does things for each other without a second thought. You would do the same for us, and we know it. And believe me, with the track record of the team, the time will come when you'll be bending over backwards to help one of us get through a rough patch. You already helped Tony after Jeanne, and you were the one that brought Gibbs back to us after he was messed up from the boat explosion. It's just your turn right now, so sit back and let us fuss over you for a while."

A few tears drop onto her hair. I finish the braid in silence, secure it with the rubber band, then find a tissue. "Thank you, Abby."

She stands and we are facing each other, eyes red rimmed, and we both start laughing at the state we find ourselves in. She gives me another hug and I'm relieved that the serious part of our talk is over.

"So, what's the plan? Did Gibbs really okay you to come back?"

"Well, I do not like to pull the damsel in distress card, but I find that if a young woman bats her eyelashes, honorable men cannot help but do her bidding, yes?" She looks up and I give her a mischievous smile. She laughs.

"Oh, I know it, Sister!"

"Anyway, Gibbs is reluctantly letting me work half days for the rest of this case, then I can be back full time. I cannot see any crime scene pictures or observe any interrogations. He does not trust me not to repeat yesterday's drama so I must be escorted everywhere, hence my shadow in the hallway. Once the case is over I will have more independence again, until then I am resigned to being coddled. Gibbs was with me when I woke up, and seeing him then, well . . . I can understand why he would be overly protective. I am lucky that he compromised at all."

"How's Tony doing? He must have been scared out of his mind. I mean from what Timmy said, you looked seriously out of it."

"Yes, Tony was . . . affected. He has been very fragile with me and uncertain of himself but at the same time very considerate. He has been getting me to talk and yet not letting me take myself too seriously, which is just what I have needed. I could not ask for a better partner."

Abby squares her body and puts her hands on her hips. "Oh Ziva, we are WAY beyond partner here, at least the rest of us see it even if you two are too messed up to admit it. Sorry, I guess I shouldn't say 'messed up,' maybe more like too individually complex that together, well, you may not be able to appreciate the simplicity that an outside observer would pick up on right away."

"I think we are just fine as we are for now. Anyway, Gibbs would prevent anything more."

"I think you two have caused Gibbs so much grief in that department that eventually he'll admit that the two of you deserve each other. I mean, come on! How could someone on the outside come in to one of your lives and really appreciate everything you've gone through?"

"I do not see Gibbs changing long established rules for our benefit, but it is a nice thought. I cannot think past right now so despite your chronic optimism, please do not go designing a maid of honor dress quite yet."

She jumps up and gives me a proper Abby hug. "You would pick me as your maid of honor?"

Not the response I was looking for, but I have to laugh at her enthusiasm. "Of course, Abby, but that is just hypothetical. Tony and I are just friends, partners, or whatever, but no more than that so you must not be pushing these romantic ideas around. I think that if things stayed the same as they are and I never marry, I would still be very fortunate. Right now I just have to get myself straightened out."

She squinted at me, "Okay, but if you ever want to tag team Gibbs with double eyelash flutters to convince him to get rid of rule 12 I don't think he could resist our combined persuasive powers. And you know if you ever do get a ring on that finger, I had better be the first call you make."

"I promise, Abby, and you know I do keep my promises."


	21. Briefing

**A/N Okay, I've had a few reviews that want practical explanations so here they are:**

**I used the word "stab" for the largest scar because I imagined a straight heavy blade (from a tomahawk-like weapon, which are still used in combat today) that comes perpendicularly into a person's body with no sideways movement, as a stab. Maybe "hack" would have been a better word. This would cause a large scar, and break ribs. If you would like to debate whether a tomahawk is a knife, you may, but there will be over 30,000 words in this fic, and I just don't have time to defend them all.**

**As far as McGee and the scars, I was imagining he would eventually see them in a variety of circumstances that have nothing to do with Ziva taking her shirt off for that express purpose. For instance, if she reached for something and her shirt lifted enough for him to see skin, she gets injured and he has to tend to her, her clothes get torn in a fight, there is another contamination issue like in SWAK . . . need I go on? **

**I am hoping to wind this down soon so I apologize if the rest is rushed or not as fluid. **

Chapter 21(A)

Briefing

(Ziva's POV)

Poor Tony must be tired of waiting on me while I assure everyone that I am fine. After my talk with Abby I am starting to feel relieved that Gibbs is sending both of us home once I have a talk with McGee. I could do with some rest, and looking at Tony, I'd say he could as well. On our way back I need the ladies' room, but Tony opens the men's door instead and motions me in.

He shrugs, "Hey, I'm only following orders and if I go in the little girls' room I'll be slapped with a sexual harassment suit. You, on the other hand, are a woman, and a known assassin so no one will dare sue you no matter how many lines you cross."

Another concession, "Fine." I hope this case is over soon, I think Tony is enjoying this a bit too much.

Back at the Bullpen Gibbs is not at his desk but McGee stands up and says, "Uh . . . Ziva . . .Gibbs wanted me to . . . brief you on what you'll be doing for the case. Want to go to the conference room?"

Smooth, McGee, very smooth.

"Of course."

Tony started to follow then I turned, put my hand on his chest to stop him, hooked my arm around McGee's and said, "Not this time, Romeo."

Tim smiles, raises his eyebrows at Tony, and escorts me to the conference room.

We sit down and he looks very nervous so I start for him, "I am guessing this is less about briefing me on the case and more about me briefing you, yes?"

"Yeah, it was Gibb's idea to reserve the room so we wouldn't be interrupted, not to say that Tony won't try to hold a cup to the door or anything." He goes from fidgeting to pacing then continues, "Ziva, I am so sorry. I should have known that it would upset you and there I was at the crime scene and I didn't even bother to look at you. Then seeing you all limp again, it was like we were back in Africa, knowing you're alive, but still not knowing if you would really be ours again. You were lying in Ducky's ambulance, and the three of us could do nothing. I was so worried that you'd never want to come back, that you would choose to move far away from everything that reminded you of that horrible place, including us. Ziva, I don't know how you've handled it. We were only there for a few days and I still have the occasional nightmare that it didn't end well. But those mornings I see you and then I know that you're okay, and it's over. It's never over for you, and here we've been right beside you not even able to tell that you're suffering."

He sits down, exasperated, looks at me with that innocent sad expression, and I realize how much guilt he is carrying that does not belong on his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Ziva. I'm so sorry." His eyes dart away and his lip quivers despite his effort to remain composed.

I walk behind his chair, wrap my arms around him and feel the tension in his shoulders. I answer firmly, while still hugging him "Tim, when I was pulled into that room and the sack came off my head, I saw Tony and I immediately sensed you behind me as well, because you are a loyal friend with a good heart, and you would not let Tony go on a suicide mission alone. You are courageous and honorable, and not many men can boast that they have saved a damsel in distress from an impenetrable fortress, but you have. You can feel my arms around you now because you came and rescued me. You, Tim. Tony and Gibbs could not have done it without your help."

I give him a kiss on the cheek then when I feel his muscles relax I loosen my grip and he wipes at his face. I sit back in the chair facing him, smile at him softly and place my hand on his arm, maintaining some contact.

"I hear that you are working very diligently to catch this villain for me. Thank you. That is very noble and I feel certain that you will find and arrest him. Tim, You may not have had the tragic background that some of us are cursed with, but you are solid, dependable and keep us grounded as a team. Just because some superpowers are not as visible, does not mean they do not exist. And believe me, McGee, you are no sidekick."

He is smiling despite himself.

"So, Gibbs didn't say much, not surprisingly. He just told me your hours and a few restrictions, but he said that you would tell me the rest."

Ah, admitting my own kryptonia to the superhero. It is my turn to pace, "This was not the first time I have panicked, but it is the first time I have had a severe panic attack. I have been left with some . . . challenges from my time in Somalia, and I have not shared them because I did not want to appear weak. I also have been frustrated that for the first time in my life I cannot master my physical reactions to anxiety as I always have in the past. Usually the physical symptoms are minor; my heart sounds like it is thumping in my ears, I start breathe quickly, or my hands shake, but it had been manageable, and give me some credit for hiding these symptoms well." I flash him a smile. "The hardest thing for me is entering dark run down rooms. It brings back the feeling of being confined with no escape. I do not want everyone to go overboard to protect me, because much of our job is done in such rooms, and I have been able to manage. I hope that will get easier with time. That used to be the only trigger, but after yesterday it seems that certain . . . assault cases have a stronger effect on me as well."

Tim looked so anguished, and just said, "I wish I could kill him again." He was polite enough to leave it at that and not continue an uncomfortable conversation. Heaven knows I have talked through enough drama the past 2 days. "If there is any way I can help, Ziva, you have to tell me. I'm not as quick as Tony or Gibbs at reading people, but you know I would do anything for you."

"You have gone to a terrorist camp in the middle of the Somalian desert and back for me. I will always trust you with my life."

We sat in silence but I could tell he had something else to say.

"So, what was it like, the panic attack, I mean. If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind. I could not stop shaking and I felt as though I had no control of my own body. It was terrifying in itself. The event is rather a blur, but I do remember being thankful as I passed out. It is very odd but I have felt much better since then, and despite how awful it was to go through, I think I am better for having suffered it. Suffering does not always make things worse in the end."

Tim smiled and sighed, "I bit Ducky and Abby's heads off yesterday for trying to tell me the same thing." He then turned serious again, "I just know you have suffered so much more than a normal person could take, and it is painful to watch you go through any more, even if it does make things better in the long run."

"It is the way of things." I squeeze his arm, "Since you would like me to be upfront about my feelings, I will admit that I am rather tired, and so I am going to see if Tony could drive me home now. Thank you, Tim." I lean in and kiss his cheek.

"Ziva, I have one more question."

"Yes?"

"Did you really let Tony really take your shirt off?"

So that was what I walked into earlier. I am going to kill DiNozzo, but for now I cannot help playing along. I squinted my eyes and gave him a mysterious smile, then left him without an answer.

When Gibbs sees me he halts his conversation with Tony indicating that I was the topic. I know they will all be talking about me, not out of gossip, but because I am a common concern. Either way it's a bit unnerving, but like most things, it will pass with time. Tony grabbed his bag, "Ready to go?" I nod, "I'll bring the car around."

"I can certainly walk to the car you know." He keeps walking without acknowledging my obvious statement of fact.

Instead Gibbs answers, "I'll walk you out. Elevator or stairs?" (Translated, 'I'll chaperone you. Are you afraid of the elevator?')

"I do not mind the elevator, but thank you for asking."

We rode down in silence and while we were waiting for Tony he asked,

"So, Did you follow orders?"

I answer as though I am a child being asked if she had made her bed. "Yes, Abby and McGee know that I am grounded. And after today I can guarantee a psych evaluation will not be in order. I have absolutely nothing left to talk about."

He smiles, actually showing his teeth and says, "Good, now keep it up." He squeezes my shoulder then opens the car door for me.

The hum of the motor lulls me to sleep almost immediately.


	22. Debriefing

Chapter 22 (A)

Debriefing

(Ziva's POV)

"Ziva, C'mon, can you wake up for me?"

I cannot get my mouth to utter the words, "I would rather just stay here asleep, thank you very much."

"Zeee-vah . . ." I feel something light tickle my ear. I open my eyes to see Tony standing over me with a take out napkin from some fast food place or another in the place where my ear was.

I growl as I roll out of the car and as I start to stand. The last thing I hear is, "I've got you." Tony takes my weight and carries me up the steps.

Next time my eyes open, I am tucked in my bed, wearing my work clothes sans shoes, and it is dark. I walk into the living room and see Tony, asleep on the couch, the TV on. It is 8:00, so I slept for nearly 4 hours. I do not see any signs that Tony has eaten dinner so he must have been napping for quite a while as well.

I turn off the television and sit on the coffee table, and just study him. People look so much younger and innocent in sleep. Perhaps it is the vulnerability of the moment. There is no doubt that he is generally found to be handsome, but I did not think so when I first met him. I found him to be arrogant, shallow and crude. How much has changed in 4 years. I know that I find him attractive now, but I could not pinpoint the time when that change occurred. As the shallow facade eroded, I saw a different man. I cannot help but smooth his hair as I think of a boy who had not been tucked in by his parents, at least since he was 8 if he ever was at all. And wonder how he could have developed the strong tender arms that carried me in and tucked me in bed. Some parents give their children affection and are very intentional about building character, and yet he became this over time despite his upbringing. Maybe Abby is right, we are good together because we are too screwed up for anyone else to handle. I smile and he opens his eyes.

"What?" He rubs his eyes and smiles at my expression.

"Nothing, did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. You?" He rubs his hand down his face.

"Yes, thank you for tucking me in. I guess I was more worn out from work than I realized. That was exhausting."

"I don't know. I had a pretty good day. I got to escort this hot exotic woman around the office then I took her to her place and we slept together. Just try to top that one!"

I hit the smirk off his face with a throw pillow. "This time we were technically sleeping in two different rooms. And by the way, I do not appreciate you telling McGee that you took my shirt off." Two more pillow hits and he responds with short squeals.

"I let him know that you had some scars so he didn't freak out if he ever saw them. That way you would avoid another annoying soul-baring conversation down the line. See, I was only thinking of you!"

"Yes, you are very noble."

"He asked how I managed to see them, and besides I didn't hear you deny it!"

"I have to admit baffling McGee is worth tarnishing my reputation. Anyway, he needed the distraction."

My stomach growls, so he stands and stretches, "Hey, have you had anything to eat yet? I'm starving."

"I figured you would be. How about walking to the sandwich shop down the road? I feel like getting out and stretching my legs after sleeping away the evening."

"Yeah, sure, I'll just grab my shoes." He is still wearing the jeans and sweatshirt that he put on this morning. The fact that he had not changed told me what little faith he had in me being allowed to stay at work.

We walk a ways in silence, hands in our pockets. He puts his hand on my shoulder as we enter the shop, which I believe it is becoming a protective reflex. We order and sit in the corner booth, out of earshot of the few customers sitting at the bar.

"So, I'll only ask one time, and if you answer honestly that will be the last time tonight."

Knowing what was coming, I saved him the effort. "Tony, I cannot even begin to evaluate how I am. I am exhausted, I am relieved, I am nervous about being treated differently, and I have a lot to think about." I hope the exasperation in my voice is enough to quell his desire to pursue it.

He casually looks down at his chips, pops a few in his mouth and answers, "Fair enough."

"And you? The truth please." Even though I am talked out I can tell that Tony needs to be prodded.

"I'm tired and was glad to get out of there." He looks me in the eye. "I was really worried about you going in today." There is a pause before he brings his attention back to his meal. "But it turns out you are one tough cookie. I might not have heard your conversations, but what I observed was that even though you were the one hurt, you made sure that you put everyone else at ease. So basically, you were taking care of them. If I went through half of what you did I would have just curled up in a ball and would be committed to some psych ward by now rather than making everyone else feel warm and fuzzy inside."

I looked down. More compliments. Why am I so repulsed by them?

"Tony, you have no way of knowing how you would react. Anyway, you have been through enough of your own trials, I often wonder how you turned out so well."

He smiles as he leans back and crosses his arms, "So, you think I turned out well?" He apparently has no problems accepting compliments. I try to look thoughtful despite his cheesy grin. "Not as well as say . . . .McGee or Palmer, but considering the adolescent you were when I met you, yes, I would say you have come a long way."

"Palmer? Oh, that is so low!"

The rest of the meal we had conversation free of the events of the past few days. It was just relaxed and familiar. Once we arrived back at my place I opened the door, he paused waiting for an invitation or a send off. I waved him in "I believe I promised you more musicals tonight, if you are still up for it. You do need to work tomorrow so I do not want to keep you too late."

He saunters in, "Yeah, I don't think Gibbs would bat an eye at us coming in a little late anyway. I'll just blame it on your frail emotional state."

"Oh, you are so dead!" I twist his arm behind his back and say sweetly in his ear "Now who is the frail one? I believe you need to say 'Grandfather,' yes?"

"Uncle!"

"Close enough." I let go and gave him a raised eyebrow daring him to call me frail again. "I am going to change if you could get the movie set where we left off last night." When I come back out he is sitting on one end of couch with one arm draped around the back and the remote on the table but the TV had not been switched on. I sit on the couch and pull my legs up underneath me.

"Ready?"

His eyes soften, "Come here." He pulls me towards him, I lay my head on his chest and he puts his arm around me and starts the movie where we left off last night. Was that just last night? Wow, this has been a long day. I have no desire to sing along. The last thing I remember is hearing "A Few of my Favorite Things." We did not discuss Tony staying, but I had guessed the conversation in the bullpen consisted of Gibbs asking Tony to keep an eye on me a little longer.

I wake up in the middle of the night and we are in the same position. I know his back is going to be killing him, especially after carrying me up the steps. As I debate whether to wake him or not, I start studying him again and wonder what we are doing, what we are and if this is the limit of what we will become. I think Tony was wise in saying that it is a discussion for another day. For now I am content. I snuggle back into his chest and drift off again.


	23. Better

**A/N This chapter has been reviewed under the influence of Nyquil. If I massively messed anything up, I will deny all responsibility when I am again of sound mind. **

'**Foreign' terms:**

**PCS – stands for Permanent Change of Station, and is a standard military verb for move. I'm surprised I haven't heard it used on the show because you don't hear people say, "We're moving to Barstow," it's always, "We're PCSing to Barstow." That differentiates it from a deployment, which can be up to a year or more, but is not considered permanent. Gibbs who was active duty and Tim who grew up military especially would use this term, along with all the suspects and witnesses. However, with it being a show watched mostly by civilians, I'll cut them some slack if you do the same for my ignorance in other areas.**

**CO – I think this is common knowledge, but just in case it stands for Commanding Officer.**

**Stabilizers – British for training wheels. Since Ducky grew up there he would naturally use this term.**

Chapter 23

Better

(Ziva's POV)

Next time I wake up I am curled in my bed and see no evidence that the other side has been touched. I pull myself to investigate. I find a yogurt, banana and a glass of juice waiting for me along with a note from Tony saying that he went home to get ready and would be back before noon to pick me up. He is granting me some time to myself. I have a few errands that I need to run, so I drive myself around. Driving feels normal.

I arrive home in time to grab a quick lunch then I wait outside for my ride. He is punctual and looks rested. He lets me open my own door despite the bouquet in my arms and things just seem more normal. The normalcy comes to an end in the elevator. THUMP THUMP. I should not be nervous. THUMP THUMP. I talked to everyone yesterday and it is all sorted. ARGH. Why can I not master this? I do nothing to betray my thoughts yet Tony puts his hand on my shoulder, and I welcome the assuring gesture and the wave of dread passes before I hear the familiar ding.

We walk into the bullpen, and I feel comforted by Gibbs' familiar greeting, "DiNozzo, BOLO on the car – info's on your desk, David, phone records . . . " He notices the bouquet of black roses in my arms, "after you see Abby in the lab. Actually, I need to see Abby as well, so I'll go with you." Once we are out of earshot I squint at him, "Liar." He smirks at me. He lightly rests a hand on my back as we walk into the elevator. That is new.

I take the flowers to Abby, and get a big hug in return.

"Welcome back. I know you weren't even off work for a whole day, but I feel like you're finally back with us like for real, like you should be. Everything will be okay now." I know that my problems are not all gone, but I encourage her enthusiasm.

"Yes, Abby, I believe it will. Thank you for pushing me in the right direction." She gives me a knowing smile. "Any time." Gibbs seems to ignore our girly hug fest, but I know he is feeling very satisfied.

Afterwards Gibbs herds me into the conference room.

"What now? More rules?"

"Nope. I thought you would like an update on the case. I asked McGee to brief Tony and give him his assignments. Tim's got his head on straight now and asked to take the lead on this." I understand that he's thanking me for the outcome of our discussion. "So, what's going to happen is I'll fill you in, then Ducky wants to see you in autopsy."

"Gibbs, I have already spoken to him and he cleared me."

"I didn't say you needed to be cleared. He said he had crumpets or something. Don't know any more than that."

"Gibbs, I will never get any work done if my limited time is taken up by social calls."

"You shouldn't be here anyway, so any work you get done is a bonus." Touche. "Unless, of course you'd rather take some more time off." I know I am cornered so I smile sweetly and reply, "You were saying . . ."

"The victim's name is Staff Sergeant Sarah Masters, 25 years old, single. She did not show up for duty Monday, and as you know her body was found Tuesday morning from an anonymous tip. The barn's been abandoned for years, and we found no connection between any prior owners or neighbors and the victim. McGee traced the call to a burn phone. This morning he discovered a similar case near another base in Barstow, California eight months ago, so we are thinking that the suspect may be another service member that PCSed from there. Since she was a Marine we will be looking for someone who would be skilled at overpowering one. Her CO said that she was an exemplary soldier and very skilled at hand-to-hand combat. You will start by reviewing the in-processing records of all marines who have come to the DC area from Barstow, AFTER you see Ducky."

"Understood."

"Shall we?"

"I suppose you just happen to need to see him as well?"

* * *

He smiles again, "Well, as a matter of fact, I do." He offers me his arm and we head down to autopsy.

"Thank you, Jethro. I will bring her back to you in due time." Gibbs leaves and Ducky pulls out a chair for me. "Ziva, I took the liberty of steeping another pot of Betty's tea but today I have proper homemade scones, with strawberry jam and clotted cream to compliment them."

"Thank you, Ducky. That was very thoughtful." I sit down and while he pours the tea I split my scone the spread the cream then jam on each side.

"My Dear, how are you?" He is the first one to come out and ask today, and honestly I prefer it to be him.

"Ducky, I feel rested, but I am still uncertain of myself and not comfortable with so much attention. I am very pleased to be at work, and I know I have you to thank for that. I suppose I feel like I am headed in the right direction and hopefully things can return normal before long."

He takes a long sip of tea. "Normal is not a bad thing, but perhaps a more satisfying goal would be, 'better.' I doubt that what was normal before your exile will ever be again, but that does not mean that the alternative cannot be more desirable."

I nod my head in understanding. "Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better."

"Exactly. And I believe you have now been through the worst and are finally ready to accept a new reality with a brighter outlook."

A new reality. I had not considered that before. I have been so stressed trying to reclaim my former life that in truth no longer exists.

"Gibbs once told me that the assassin part of me died in Somalia, but I cannot believe him. That would absolve me of all my sins and I know what people have suffered at my hand, especially the ones I have cared most about. I cannot accept forgiveness and a fresh start where none is warranted."

"But, My Dear, forgiveness is a gift and is only bestowed in those relationships that are truly precious and worth maintaining. You do take too much upon yourself."

There is the word 'precious' again. My teacup shakes in my hand. I put it down and place my hands firmly on my legs to still them. I cannot imagine my father's contempt if he could see me on edge because I am for once being cared for without expectations or a greater agenda. Maybe that is the point. I have had blame heaped on my shoulders, even when it was not mine to bear, but never has anyone said that my own guilt could be cast off. I think of how Abby described family: _we would do anything for you_, _we love you and you're part of this family and family does things for each other without a second thought. _My own father's attentions were always conditional and the requirements for them kept getting steeper and steeper until they were ultimately unattainable. Even fulfilling and surviving a suicide mission did not make me worthy.

I finally look up at him. "Ducky, I am so altered that despite my physical rescue, I cannot see how their mission to Somalia could have been considered a success. They have been supportive yet I cannot help but feel that a grudge against me must exist. They were willing to pay the ultimate the price to redeem me and all I have done to repay them is hurt them further and confirm my brokenness. Ducky, I will admit this to you, and only you. Part of the reason I decided to become a US citizen initially was so that I would not be deported once NCIS realized that I am no longer useful."

Ducky took a long sip of tea. "Ah, your exit strategy. Given your past I can understand how you could grow accustom to seeing every stage of your life as a short-term mission. You needed to survive one to get to the next, and so on." He gently takes one of my shaky hands into both of his. "Ziva, I think it would be safe to assume that your worst fear is not being deported, but rather that you will truly believe that you belong here with us. Only then would the last emotionally healthy part of you be vulnerable to death by bitter rejection if you are turned away."

The awful dread that has been in my heart has been unearthed. I am at a loss.

"The flaw in your exit strategy is that it is a strictly hypothetical endeavor. You have not factored in the character of your fellow teammates. You are free to stay and you are also free to build long-term relationships that are not based on strategic positioning. You and I are transplants. We bring with us different cultures and social expectations. Some parts of that culture will always remain." He motions to the tea things. "However, I have been here for some time and I can say that as a general rule, while Americans do tend to be a bit excessive, they also tend to be open and kind. I know that in your Mossad training, assimilation is a valuable tool, which you have employed remarkably well over the years. Now I would advise you to cease hindering yourself by simply taking off your cultural stabilizers and for the first time really enjoy the ride. After all you are nearly an American yourself now."

He always has a way to make me smile despite myself.

"Ziva, you have a clean slate. That is a new opportunity, and while trust may not come naturally to you, I believe it will end up being one of your most valuable strategic advantages. Your friends here not only have your back at work, they are a fiercely loyal lot, and you can depend on them for more than your physical safety. You are precious, and although that concept may have been foreign to you before, I have made it my mission that it will never be again, and I can assure you that I am not be alone in this endeavor."

He gently lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it like the true gentleman that he is. I do not shed tears this time, but I feel his words envelope me in undeserved kindness. It is uncomfortable, and I would not stand for it with anyone else, but this is Ducky. I know that while he can be long winded, and the others may find that tedious, I appreciate his intelligence, his insight and his objectivity. Yesterday talking to Ducky was a requirement that I initially resented, but today I appreciate having this time with a friend who will not be hovering over me at the next crime scene, and someone to whom I do not need to provide assurances of my sanity.

"Despite all I put them through, some days I believe they must be mad to still want me here. Yet this seems to be my home, and I hope that is the case for a long, long time. Right now I am focusing on getting through this day and the next and I cannot think about the distant future. It is a luxury I never thought I would have, but one I that I am truly grateful for."

"It was not my intention to have a heart-to-heart when I extended an invitation to afternoon tea, but rest assured, what is shared over tea, stays amongst friends. Now that I think about it, I believe we can strike a deal to our mutual advantage. If Jethro sees us regularly taking tea together, no matter what we talk about, he will be less likely to threaten you with another psychological evaluation, and I would have the honor of a beautiful and intelligent woman's company in this otherwise sterile room from time to time."

"Ducky, I would be honored to take tea with you any time."

How can I refuse? I know he will be doing unofficial psych evaluations of his own, but not for the benefit of Director Vance, and there will be no report, not even to Gibbs. The way I see it, I have Ducky to help with my overall insecurities, Gibbs for guidance and protection, and Tony for, well, I am not sure how to put it in words. He is my best friend? Yes but, too cliché, my partner? Not quite accurate either. He is my stability and this week my comfort, beyond that I cannot name. McGee an Abby fill in the edges. I am a blessed woman.

We finish our tea over pleasant conversation then he escorts me back to my desk.

I finally begin to search the PCS data and look for possible suspects. Tony and McGee are at their desks, continuing their work but both shooting glances in my direction. Finally I pound my hand on my desk, "What?"

"Nothing." Come two meek voices, neither one looking at me.

"McGee, you found that there was a similar crime 8 months ago that is unsolved? Were there any other similar crimes that predate it around other marine bases? The more dots we have to connect the easier it will be to hone in on the correct suspect, yes?"

Tony looks up at me, "The BOLOs haven't turned up anything so I can look into that."

"Good idea, Ziva. Thanks, Tony."

Okay, this is strange, Tony is accepting McGee's leadership and not insulting him? I know my suggestion is a long shot, and in truth I uttered it more to get their minds off of me and back on the case, but neither one seems willing to shoot down a suggestion of mine.

The rest of the afternoon we work on our respective tasks. I narrow my list and give it to Tony along with the information on bases where those men had been stationed before Barstow in the unlikely event that Tony did find a predated case.

At the end of the day, despite being resigned to innocuous tasks, I feel satisfied. At 4:58 Gibbs walks by my desk, obviously looks at his watch and clears his throat. Tony and I dutifully get up, grab out things and make our exit.


	24. Accessibility

Chapter 24

Accessibility

(Ziva's POV)

When he pulls into my apartment I am not sure if he is still on a covert surveillance mission for Gibbs, if he is motivated by his own protective instincts, or if he is just not ready to be alone himself yet, but I can tell that he is hoping for a dinner invitation yet does not want to impose. I choose to end his indecision, "Well, we have not even gotten half way through the movie yet so you might as well come in."

He flashes a big smile, "I thought you'd never ask. I'll make dinner tonight." I cannot help but smile back at his raw enthusiasm.

He runs back to his place to change then to the grocery to pick up ingredients. I know that he has a short list of Italian dishes that he has perfected to impress dates. Since most of his relationships have not lasted long enough to exhaust this list there has been little need for repetition. However, during our partnership I have had them each many times so he tries to pass them off as different meals by using different shaped pasta. I am wise to this, but I humor him.

He sings some exaggerated Italian serenade while he dishes it up. I am thankful for his levity. We sit at the table rather than eat in front of the TV tonight. Neither of us suggests it, it just naturally happens.

"Buon Appetite!" He whisks the plate in front of me with a flourish.

"Grazie, Tony."

"So, how was day two? Enjoy the tea and crumpets with Ducky?"

"Scones, and yes, as a matter of fact, I did. He is delightful company."

"Was that Gibbs mandated today? Did he pile on more caveats or is he backing off?"

"Well, he did let me go to the head on my own, but I think that had more to do with Director Vance fielding complaints, or being afraid I would walk in on him than Gibbs trusting me. As far as Ducky goes, we have an understanding. Gibbs escorted me down for tea and scones, but that was as far as Gibbs knew, or will know no matter how curious he gets. Ducky said he would say just enough to shield me from future psych evals, but give no details whether we talk about the weather, his cricket days or my checkered past."

He just smiles and takes a sip of his wine. "So, what was the topic today, if you don't mind me asking?"

I narrow my eyes at him, "What makes you think that if Gibbs is not privy to our conversations that you should be?"

"Fair enough. Ducky is a good man, I'm glad you're able to talk to him."

He looks a little conflicted? Insecure? Hurt?

"I seem to be surrounded by good men, and for that I am very thankful." I shoot him a meaningful glance. "I can tell you that Ducky is helping me assimilate into American life, or rather make a permanent transition into it. He has certain . . . insights that the rest of you lack from growing up in this culture. Do not get me wrong, I mean the constant movie references will no doubt help me ace my citizenship exam, but there are a few things about Americans that the books just do not cover."

"Such as our high consumption of _tom-ahto ketchup_ and tendency to wear bright white _trainers_, or was it more like our aversion to haggis and our idea that guys wearing skirts is just not masculine, no matter how good looking his legs are?" He emphasized the Britishisms with a proper Scottish accent.

"Something like that."

"So, overall a good day?"

"Yes, Tony, I did have a good day, and you?"

"Didn't get very far with the case but it was cute seeing McGee taking the reins. Gibbs really let him have a long leash. In fact I didn't see Gibbs very much at all, just a few times looking over the railing and walking through to get updates. I'm guessing he was doing some analysis down with Abby since the plasma was off all afternoon. It seemed rather obvious that McGee stayed to keep an eye on us to deflect the fact that Gibbs was working on the more disturbing aspects of the case."

I appreciate Tony's honest assessment.

"Tomorrow you will be able to work a full day so maybe you will be able to make more headway."

"Yeah, I hope so, I'd like to get this thing wrapped up, although I admit getting to be your personal chauffer has its perks. I think I'll miss that when Daddy gives you back the car keys."

"Tony, we will be sitting across from each other all day again, and who knows, maybe one day you will be lucky enough to have a neurotic episode of your own and I will get to be chauffer for you?" I offer a smug smile. He responds in kind.

"Oh, dare to dream, Missy! For now it's Sound of Music, take three. Hopefully we'll finish it before either one of us gets committed." He gets up to clear the plates and I follow suit by dishing out the ice cream.

Tonight Tony gets me to sing along with the songs and we chat through part of the movie. I tell him a few stories about Salzburg and how he would love the food, especially the goulash. He asks what I would find more attractive, a man in a kilt or in lederhosen. That is a tough one and requires much analysis. We make it to the end and while the credits are rolling I break his bubble by telling him the actual mountains they were climbing at the end of the film would lead into Germany rather than freedom. In reply I get a deflated, "Well aren't you Little Miss Kill Joy."

We sit near each other but not as intimately as the night before. He stands and stretches, "Well, I better get going and let you get to sleep." He must be free of Gibbs' orders to stay with me, but I find that I am disappointed at the thought of him leaving. He sits on the coffee table in front of me, sensing my disappointment.

He looks me in the eye and takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb in circles. "Ziva, what would you like me to do? I can stay if you would like, whether with you," he nods towards the bedroom, "or out here. I don't mind, in fact I would be happy to, I just didn't want to make any assumptions."

I am feeling better after a lighter evening, but I do not want to be alone in the dark quite yet. Before I would have kicked him out with some diatribe about being able to take care of myself, thank you very much, and face my fears in true Mossad fashion, but then I think about my talk with Ducky and realize that I need to find what is 'better' rather than 'normal.' Honesty wins the moment and I make a personal compromise.

"Tony, there is a small brown paper bag on the counter, could you get that for me." He complies, then sits on the couch. We both shift so that we are facing each other and he places a hand on my knee to urge me to continue. "I ran two errands this morning, one for Abby, obviously the flowers, and the other for you. Since I have come back I have not been sure of much, especially my future at NCIS. But even aside from that my citizenship is undecided, and my biggest hesitation is that I know I have changed and I have not felt certain that I still fit in the same place in everyone's lives. Ducky pointed out to me that I have been conditioned to consider every stage of my life as temporary and that my instinct is to formulate exit strategies for every mission."

He is trying to look calm and encouraging, but I see the panic brewing in his eyes. He has unknowingly increased the pressure on my knee, as though willing me not to say that I am leaving. I hand him the bag, which he slowly accepts but there is another meaningful pause and he is reluctant to open it.

"I was not sure when would be the right time to give it to you, but I believe it is now. I do not know what will happen in the future, but I do not intend to go back to the way things were before. I had been attempting that and it just does not fit any longer." He slowly opens the bag and pulls out two keys. "Tony, I want to stay. I have decided to act like I am a permanent part of this team again, and the first step of that is being more accessible. Years ago I had given you a key to my place in case of emergencies. I did trust you to a point then, and since then you have proven that any trust that I put in you will never be misplaced." He is just looking between the keys and me as relief, hope and something that I cannot quite place washes over him. Then he examined them closer and asked, "Two?"

"Well, just so you do not get too full of yourself, I also had one made for Gibbs." I smile but the mock disappointed look or sarcastic comment does not come. He just is in awe of the small tokens in his hand and he gingerly brushes his fingers over them to verify they are real. "I do not want him to have to worry over me again, and while he is not so keen to have deep discussions, I am hoping that beyond the practical implications of giving it to him, he will realize the meaning behind it."

"Ziva, he will." He clears his throat and I feel the weight in his words. He pulls out his keychain and places his gift next to his own apartment key, and I believe he is beaming.

"So, tonight is your call. I brought a go-bag in case but I can just as easily head home if you would rather be alone."

I am having a hard time formulating the words that morph my insecurities into a request. "Tony, I do need to get back to a routine on my own, but for tonight could you stay with me" I nod towards the bedroom, "just until I am asleep?"

His pleasure intensifies, "Of course." He dangles his keychain, "And now I can let myself out and lock the door behind me." Okay, that was not so painful.

While I am changing in the bathroom I hear the front door open and I know Tony is testing out his new memento. Yes, I believe he is very pleased. He finishes cleaning the kitchen then knocks at the open bedroom door, and I nod him in as I finish brushing my hair. He pulls back the covers and motions for me to get comfortable. He snugs me in one side, kisses my forehead then lies on top of the covers on the other side and starts rubbing my back through the blankets and humming a slow tempo Sound of Music medley. I am lulled to a sound sleep and do not hear the click of the lock as he lets himself out.


	25. Arrest

**A/N I just wanted to give a shout out to Hungary, and thank that country personally for creating the savory heaven that is goulash. I am aware that it is Hungarian style goulash that is served in Austria, but while I was in Salzburg, I devoured it every chance I could. I just didn't specify that the fantastic dish served in Salzburg did not originate there, I meant no slight to Hungary. I should also mention to any Polish readers that I have had Polish goulash as well while in Krakow. That is a different style of goulash but it is delightful as well. I never expected to discuss goulash at such length during a fanfic, but hey, it's great to have a well-informed and cultured reader base.**

**Also, sorry about killing the end of "The Sound of Music" for some of you, but I did learn that fact while in Salzburg, so I'm guessing I have accurate intel. **

Chapter 25 (A)

Arrest

(Tony's POV)

I exit the elevator, whistling. I know I look way too chipper for someone coming to work on a gruesome murder case that is emotionally affecting my partner, but I can't help it. I thought I was getting some sort of parting gift and meaningful goodbye last night and instead I got a key. That is huge. After Somalia I assumed that she would want to keep me at arm's length indefinitely. Maybe eventually she would trust a key to Abby, or Gibbs. Heck, I figured even Probie would get one before she would consider giving one to me, but here I am with her key. I've been offered keys before for purely romantic (and I use that word in the most shallow sense) reasons, but they have never meant so much and at the same time held such little promise of conquest.

McGee and Gibbs are intently looking at some of the crime scene photos. This is the first I've seen the pictures since I was only on perimeter that day and left with Ziva. No one would dare pull them out while she was in the around. I stop whistling and stare at what I see. The victim looks so much like her and the similarity of her wounds and bindings . . . I start having flashbacks again to Africa and how she looked so vacant afterwards. What happened on Tuesday becomes even more real to me and it's killing me that she's had to relive it. How many more crimes like this will she have to process? How many more guys like that are in the world? I want to ring this guy's neck, all their necks. Salim deserved so much more pain than the quick bullet he got. I wanted him to suffer, really suffer. I realize that my pulse is racing despite my calm exterior.

"Hey, Tony." McGee turns to look at me then wrinkles his brow. He heard me whistle and apparently my expression doesn't match the casual one he expected. "Everything okay?" I bite back the sarcastic comment that I want to say, which is, "Oh yeah, life's peachy. So, shall we look at more delightfully graphic pics?" I guess I pause too long because they are both looking at me now, expecting me to say something.

"Yeah. So are we any closer to getting him?" I can't keep all the venom that's running through my veins out of my voice but I do not direct it at them and they don't call me on it.

Gibbs is still letting McGee run the show. "Actually, Ziva's idea ended up panning out. We have two suspects that fit the timeline of the two crimes we knew about yesterday then we got a hit on a similar case outside of San Antonio, Texas. We're running down the intel now. There was a strange marking on the other two victims and we were just looking through the crime scene to see if this could possibly be a signature that was used on all three. I remembered seeing something that did not look like a wound from the primary weapon but more like a symbol so we were looking closer, and you can see it here." He zooms in then points to small very exact slashes that seem to be in the shape of an S.

I realize that Gibbs and McMuffin have been here all night again judging by their clothes. "Good work, McGoogle. So, who are the suspects?"

"Two marines who are from San Antonio fit the timeline. After basic their first assignment was Barstow then they PCSed to Quantico." Their pictures came to the front. "Lance Corporal Aaron Armstrong and PFC Brandon Sanchez, and before you point out the obvious, yes, only one has a name starting with S, so our next move is to lean on him."

Gibbs this whole time has been standing to the side sipping his coffee and reading me while I digest all the information and burn the image of the monster on the screen into my mind. When McGee is done he flips him the car keys.

"McGee, gas the car and bring it around."

"Yes sir."

Gibbs waits for me to grab my gear then we walk to the elevator. It doesn't take long for him to flip the switch. He is facing forward standing next to me. He's giving me a chance to vent if I want it.

I start pacing, "I just want to kill this guy. If I did would you be willing to falsify some reports and sweep it under the rug?"

"I'd be tempted but I don't trust you to clean up your tracks, DiNozzo. Ziva could do it without leaving a trace, but nope, you better not kill anyone today."

"I hadn't seen the crime photos until just now." My pulse is still racing and I punch the wall, hard enough to make a dent. I shake my hand, thankful that the physical pain is a distraction from the dark place where my mind keeps going.

Gibbs turns to me. "Feel better?"

"No."

"Tony, this is personal to all of us. We do this and at least this case is over for her."

"There will always be another one and another one."

"Hey, This job is her mission and her identity. She'll never walk away from it, and you can't protect her from it. Get your head back in the game and let's focus on one bad guy at a time." He gives me a head slap, which is the equivalent of hitting my reset button. "McGee and I have been here all night so you're driving."

"Yes, Boss."

We arrive at his duty station, flash our badges to his CO, and see all eyes on us. When he hears his name a large Hispanic marine takes off running. Oh great, here we go. I leg it knowing that Gibbs and McGee will not be quick from lack of sleep. Thankfully, his CO shouts orders and a half a dozen Marines pass me and take him down. I catch up with them, winded, pull out my cuffs and read him his rights. The CO accompanies us to NCIS to be filled in and guarantee that there will be no other escape attempts.

Back in interrogation Tim and I look at him from behind the glass while Gibbs is sitting across from him letting him stew. We recognize the contempt and arrogance that he directs towards Gibbs. This guy has about 30 pounds of muscle and 4 inches on Salim, but he oozes the same filth. McGee starts pacing and wiping his palms and I am trying to figure if he is angry or just having PTSD symptoms of his own. "You promised Ziva you'd get him and you did. Good work, Tim."

"I'm glad she's not here for this, I mean this guy seems so much like him, I wouldn't want her to have to see this."

Just then Gibbs walks into the room with us, looks at his watch and says pointedly, "DiNozzo, you think Ziva would mind coming in early?"

McGee answers first, "Boss, do you think that is a good idea? I mean she could very easily run into him and I didn't think you wanted her here for interrogations?"

"I didn't say she was going to be here for the interrogation. I'm planning on having that finished before she arrives. Shouldn't take long." We both just stare at him. "I'm well aware of what she's been through, McGee, but she is my agent, and I am your boss and you need to trust me on this." With McGee's nod of consent Gibbs is out the door.

I understand Gibbs' intentions, but I am not sure that this is a good idea. I can see that Tim plainly disagrees with Gibbs and is debating how noble he is going to be to defend her from seeing this creep. In the end he trusts Gibbs and the fact that I am not arguing strengthens his case.

He finally gives me a pleading look, "Tony, make sure she at least knows what she's walking into and give her an out."

"I will, but she's a big girl. She might have been a victim, but don't forget that she's also been with NCIS for 4 years and was an assassin before that. Gibbs gets her better than anyone else so I'm willing to trust him . . . " I pause realizing that I do not sound convincing. "to a point, anyway. But at the same time we'll be here watching out for her and we'll make sure she lands on her feet."

He doesn't buy it but he trusts Gibbs and me, especially when it comes to predicting the actions of unpredictable women. Heaven knows we both have a lot of experience in that department.


	26. Guardian

Chapter 26

Guardian

(Tony's POV)

I get in my car and debate whether to call or just stop over. In the end I pull up outside her apartment before I come to a decision. I let out a deep breath. Here it goes.

I knock and there is no answer. I debate what to do. She has given me a key, but it was given in case of emergencies. I see her car parked out front so she could be in the shower or out for a run. Then again she could be hurt or in trouble. Okay, logically there is no reason why she should be. I think Probie's mother hen instincts are rubbing off on me. After all, if someone tried to attack her it would be them that would most likely need an ambulance, but then if there were a lot of them and she was taken by surprise . . .

While my mind races I knock again, harder than I mean to. I hear movement on the other side and she opens the door far enough to let me in. As I enter I kick myself for overreacting then I see her wrapped in a towel, her hair strewn about, obviously fresh from the shower. "What are you doing here this early? Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Yeah . . ." Focus, DiNozzo, focus. I shake my head to clear it. "Gibbs thought you would want to come in early."

She starts patting her hair dry with a smaller towel she was holding. I see that she is not hiding any of her scars. I was worried that it might have just been one moment of intimacy that would have been buried, but it seems to be permanent progress.

"Is the case resolved so quickly?"

I am trying hard to reconcile the beautiful sight in front of me with the ugly facts that I have to tell her.

"Not exactly . . ."

She snaps her fingers in front of me, wrinkles her brow and says, "Perhaps if I get dressed properly I will get more information from you, yes?"

"Sorry, yeah, I'll just wait out here."

"Do not worry, Tony, you are not the first man who has drooled over me." Touche.

I smile but can't utter any sort of intelligible response. As soon as she shuts the door I can't help saying, "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" as I head slap myself with each word. Focus on the case, not on her legs or how natural that felt for her to have no inhibition towards showing her scarred skin. _I'll just wait out here?_ Seriously? Where else would I wait? I'm not going for stalker here, and staring at her like that doesn't promote the whole, 'you can trust me as a friend and partner' role I'm honestly trying to fulfill.

I pace around the room still not sure where to start.

She emerges fully clad, braiding her damp hair. She sees me pacing with my hand scratching the back of my head. "Tony, tell me what is going on." She is using her calming voice and sits down on the couch, as if to urge me to do the same. I sit with a sigh.

"Okay. Gibbs asked me to bring you in early . . ."

"Yes, you have told me that much so far. Why, Tony? You are clearly agitated." She places a hand on my knee

"Sorry. Uh, I guess after we left last night McGee and Gibbs looked into your hunch about previous crimes and based on that they found two suspects. We arrested one this morning, PFC Brandon Sanchez, and Gibbs is interrogating him now."

"I am not allowed to witness interrogations."

I nod, "I know, but he wants you there right after he's done. I can't say for sure, but I think he's offering you a chance for some sort of closure or something."

She stiffens. "Oh." I put my hand over hers on my knee and close my fingers around it.

"Listen, Tim thinks it's a bad idea, this guy has him creeped out and he doesn't want you to see him. I had to promise him that I would warn you what you will be walking into. Gibbs thinks it will be good for you to come in and face him."

Ziva looks down at her knees then looks me in the eye. "What do _you_ think?"

"I trust Gibbs, but I can see Tim's point. This guy . . . he has that same feel about him as Salim did. I really don't know what to think."

She nods, puts both her hands on her knees, pushes herself up slowly and says, "Okay, let's go."

"You're sure? You don't have to do this." I can't keep the stern doubt out of my voice.

She avoids eye contact. "I am thankful for your concern and McGee's, but in this case I have promised to follow any orders from Gibbs and he always has his reasons. You will not be far from me, and I will be at NCIS, not some dark hole in the wall." She tries to look certain of herself, but I'm not so easily fooled. "Okay, if it makes you feel any better, I am glad you are driving me because I honestly do not know what to expect of myself. That is what scares me the most."

I appreciate how far she's come this week. Admitting fear is a new thing for her so I try to soften my expression. I go to hug her and she puts a hand on my chest. "Not now, Tony. I will need your assurances later, but right now I need to focus on keeping myself in one piece until after I do this. Call it a deeply embedded Mossad coping device, or whatever you wish, but I have to be in the right frame of mind to face this."

I retreat, trying to quell the feeling of rejection. "Okay," I walk to the door and open it, "After you." I can't help but make a show of pulling out my key to lock up, at least that earns me a slight smile.

Aside from me whistling now and then, the ride is spent in silence. Her eyes are closed and she seems to be getting into some sort of untouchable mindset, which is actually freaking me out a little bit. I have no idea what to say so whistling seems like my safest option. I pull into the car park and she gets out as soon as I pull on the parking brake. I walk behind her but she doesn't look at me. We ride in the elevator and again she ignores me. She does, however, notice the fist sized dent that was not there yesterday. When we reach the bullpen McGee is there ready to take us down to Gibbs.

"Hey, Ziva. Did Tony fill you in? You okay with this?" He asks in a very tentative way.

She is still all business, but her look softens just a little for him, "Yes, Tim, I will be fine. Is Gibbs ready for me?"

He's confused, looks behind her to me for some sort of explanation and I just shrug. "Yeah, the guy pretty much just bragged his confession and now Gibbs is sitting on him. I'm supposed to take you down there."

"Okay. Thank you, McGee."

We walk down in silence. Tim opens the observation room and we walk in. As she studies him I watch her hands and her breathing. She is intentionally breathing slower than normal, and her hands are fisted to mask the shaking. She closes her eyes to try to control her physical reaction to her mounting anxiety. Tim looks to me to jump to her rescue. I don't touch her, just quietly say, "Ziva . . . "

She opens her eyes, looking at PFC Sanchez with a blazing intensity that I hadn't witnessed in her since she had her gun pointing at me in Isreal. Her hands steady and she simply says, "Excuse me," and walks out the door.

Tim bangs on the glass to warn Gibbs that she is coming. A second later the door opens and she starts slowly pacing the room, arms crossed, and a seriously hard look on her face that is focused on him.

Gibbs gets up and says, "Leave no marks, Agent David." He nods then exits the room. He's in with us a moment later, arms crossed, ignoring us but studying Ziva intently. Here we are again, her three guardian angels, watching from a distance. The suspect is cuffed but the intensity is palpable. She is still pacing and Sanchez is suddenly looking very unsure of what he is in for. She suddenly slams both her palms on the desk in front of him and starts ranting at him in Hebrew. I can't follow what she's saying, but I can guess it's everything she ever thought of spouting out to Salim but never got the chance to say. All the crap that she was dished from him, her father, Mossad, and everyone who ever hurt her, she focuses on him while she paces, slams her hands uncomfortably close to him, and generally does anything she can to put him on edge. For Sanchez the venom behind the words is as clear as the language is confusing to him. He starts sweating and twitching in discomfort. When he is nearly writhing she finally lets loose one last malicious string of insults, spits in his face, and walks out the door in defiant control of herself and the situation.

Tim and I watch her with dropped jaws and Gibbs just has a slight smirk on his face, enjoying that he was finally able to do something to help her get past this. As soon as Ziva left interrogation he addressed Tim, "Go get his CO and start processing him."

When Tim left Gibbs looked at me, "DiNozzo, that will be all for today. Vance has taken our team off duty until Tuesday. McGee will finish the paperwork, you take Ziva home and let her know that I'll expect her here at 7 Tuesday morning. Neither of you are to do so much as drive by the Navy Yard until then. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Boss." I pause. "Thanks." He waves me out with mock irritation. I go looking for Ziva and after checking the bullpen, lab and autopsy, I swing open the ladies' room door and see her rinsing her face with violently shaking hands. I walk up to her slowly, "Hey, you okay?" She puts her palm up to stop me from touching her. "I guess that's a stupid question. Gibbs said the team is off duty until Tuesday, can I drive you home?" She doesn't look at me, just nods. We take the least public route to the garage, I open the door for her then hurry to my side and drive as quickly as I can back to her place. She spends the drive with her eyes closed, her elbow propped on the door and her head in her hand. She's breathing very slowly to combat anxiety. Meanwhile my heart is racing, I'm worrying that she may have another full-blown panic attack.

As soon as we get to her place I unlock her door and let us in. As soon as the door closes she leans forward with her hands on her knees, as I saw her do outside the barn. My heart's breaking for her again and I'm trying not to panic myself. "Do you need a bucket?" Her head shakes no. I place my hand on her back and start rubbing it slowly. "Hey, it's okay, it's over . . . it's over." She starts sobbing. I scoop her in my arms and sit on the couch. All that anger and sorrow that she had pent up for years seems to have finally surfaced. I kiss her head, sweep the loose hairs back from her face, and just keep her close. Her normally solid body trembles in my arms and my shirt is spattered with tears, and snot. The thought passes through my mind that it is possible that I won't wash it again to preserve the monument of trust. Strange what goes through your head in moments of profound sorrow.

I have no idea what to do. Should I call Ducky to come and make sure she's okay? I'd like to deck Gibbs for this. Should I call him and chew him out, or at least demand an apology, not that he ever would give one? I decide at last just to keep her close and monitor her myself. If she starts throwing up or passing out I'll call Ducky, otherwise I'll look after her the best I can. After a long time her tear ducts run dry and the sobs give way to post-cry hitched breaths, then the even ebb and flow and snores that comes with a deep sleep. I know she will sleep better if she is in her bed, so I carry her into her bedroom, take off her shoes and pull the covers over her. I have to keep contact with her to make sure she's okay, but I am fighting my own exhaustion so I decide to pull off my shoes, climb under the covers on the other side and lay next to her with my arm slung over her, trusting that if she gets in trouble I'll sense it and wake up. She unconsciously laces her fingers with mine and we both sleep the rest of the day away.


	27. ThaThump

**A/N Okay, I'm trying to come to a close on this and the last few chapters will probably not be very polished. I'm sure some of you will take issue with the ending, but I think Ziva enjoys tormenting Tony so I don't think it's unreasonable. **

Chapter 27

Tha-Thump

(Ziva's POV)

I wake, but before my eyes open I can sense three things; first, it is dark, second, my pillow is rising and falling with the sound of deep breaths and three, there are arms securely around me. Tony must have carried me to bed yet again but this time he stayed. I must have been a sight, all the blubbering and sniffling, and there was Tony yet again to pick up the pieces. I listen to his even heartbeat and am thankful. I am thankful that he came to rescue me. Thankful that he was not killed trying to do such a foolish thing for a woman who had cast him aside. Thankful that he has not judged me unworthy to be on the team or in his life after all I put him through. I place my palm on his chest next to my face and slowly move it as though the more I feel him the truer the reality is that he is here with me.

I think back to the events of the day while I listen to the steady tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump that anchors me to the reality that this nightmare is over.

_I had a fantastic run. I have come to relish the freedom that comes from propelling myself forward, the power behind each step is somehow empowering. I was carried away by the beautiful weather and the rush of adrenaline and ran longer than I had planned. While I was enjoying my post-run shower, I heard a knock on the door. I quickly tucked a towel around me, grabbed another to pat dry my hair and made my way to look through the peep hole. Tony. He looked nervous, in fact he almost had the McGee puppy dog look about him. He knocked again with more will behind it and I opened the door and motioned him in. _

_He could not spit out what the trouble was but I could see the conflict. He was distracted by the fact that I was not dressed and while I was flattered and at any other time I would tease him mercilessly for his weakness in the face of my beauty, I could see that it was not the time for taunting him, too much anyway. I took pity on him and changed._

_He carefully told me that Gibbs was letting me have at a suspect so that I could use him as a verbal punching sack. I knew he was thinking that if I took all the anger I had harbored against Salim and transferred it to this Marine I would feel better. I was caught off guard, I did not know what to expect of myself and I did not want to go in and risk further humiliation, but this was Gibbs. If I was going to start acting like I am permanently with this team, my loyalty has to start with my relationship with Gibbs. I had to honor his request to come in. I knew this was going to irk McGee and Tony but I had no choice. I pulled my hand out of Tony's and stood up, showing my resolve. _

_He came close as if he was going to hug me. I could not let him touch me or I would not be able to keep my wits about me. I put my hand up to stop him and I shut my eyes against the pain that no doubt was there in his expression. After all the closeness and honesty of the past few days I did not want to confuse him with my distance, and hoped he would understand. He had forgiven me for much less and I would just have to take the risk that his mercy towards me was not fleeting._

_The time at NCIS was a blur. I avoided any personal contact that would lower my defenses and then I saw the monster. All the smells and sounds of Africa infiltrated my senses, I was surging with anger and pain and I was vaguely surprised to find that my clenched fists were not bound. I understood why Gibbs sent for me. He was not Salim, but he could be related. It was not even the physical features, but the disdain, the callousness, the arrogance. I closed my eyes. Oh, I wanted this, I really did. In a small part of my mind I processed that McGee and Tony were eyeing me and waiting for an indication of what they should do. I could not face them with so much hatred in my heart, despite hearing, "Ziva . . ." in Tony's pleading tone. I had to go. I unclenched my fists to find that they no longer shook, then I uttered something as I left the room. _

_I opened the door with conviction and Gibbs met me with a supportive nod. I remember him saying, 'leave no marks." I had no intention of touching that unkosher piece of filth, but I would make him suffer. I paced, I started speaking evenly then shouting and mocking him in Hebrew. Every single thing that ran through my head in that desolate camp, all the hopelessness that was beaten out of me was now replaced with a drive to be in control and more, to inflict torture myself. The accusations and scorn on my behalf and for that of Staff Sergeant Sarah Masters and his other silenced victims flowed through me. I saw his expression turn from smugness to fear. I saw him cower at my pounding hand and shrink at my foreign insults, and when I ran out of insults and tired of seeing his face I spat at it, and it was over. I calmly walked to the door, opened it and as soon as it closed I ran to the ladies' room and promptly vomited. _

_This was not like the other panic attack. This was not due to fear, but release. I saw his face and survived. I finally believed that I would never be bound in that prison again and I did not know how to handle the overwhelming emotions. I cupped my violently shaking hands and rinsed my mouth then my face. After a few minutes the door swung open and Tony appeared, catching his breath. He must have been searching for me, panicking himself. I knew that I was not finished with whatever episode I had started here but I was willing myself to keep it together until I got home. I would allow myself a breakdown in front of him, but I still could not take my weaknesses having a larger audience. He was so kind, he led me to his car avoiding other people as much as possible. He did not try to make me talk, he just respected my need for a little space._

_Once we entered my place, I could bear it no longer. He rubbed my back as I sobbed and it all seemed so familiar. However, this time I did not need to throw up and I was not so anxious as to flirt with passing out. I just heaved sob after sob. He brought me to the couch and I sobbed shamelessly for what seemed like an hour. He held me close to him, rubbed my back and assured me it was over. Eventually it all went peacefully dark._

I get up as quietly as I can, grab my pajamas and go in the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. I look in the mirror and see button marks on my face from Tony's shirt. Nice. I shake my head and smile. When I come out Tony is awake, still lying on the bed with his hands behind his head. His eyes are on me, "Hey."

I walk back to the bed and sit down next to him and slowly tame his hair with my fingers. He closes his eyes and looks content. I settle my hand on his cheek and he moves his head slightly under it to urge me to keep it moving. I gently massage his cheek with my thumb and he soaks in the feeling. I feel my heart thumping again, but not out of fear. I take in his features, his expression. I could easily kiss him right now, and it would all change. He would follow my lead and our night would be spent passionately, but afterwards he would wonder if it was passion borne from the heat of the moment from my emotional distress. Even if I start this he would feel as though he took advantage of me since I asked him to stay as a friend. Then there is the unknown. After all I have been through, I do not know how I might react. We are both so tired and in the end I cannot heap any more unearned guilt upon him. No, there is no doubt that I want to kiss him and see where this leads, but that feels like a 'normal' and short term decision, and I would rather try for 'better' and that involves thinking of consequences longer than the moment.

My lips will not be completely denied so I kiss him on the forehead. He opens his eyes and smiles. Before I can give myself a chance to reconsider I utter, "It's ten, would you like me to order a pizza and you can get changed and stay here tonight?"

"That sounds great." He sits up in bed, lifts his hand to brush the button indentation on my cheek, and smiles. He then looks down at his shirt to yet another drool mark. "You know, I could get used to being a human Rorschach Test."

I smile, "Oh you could, could you?"

I love putting him on edge, "I mean, that is if you ever wanted me to get used to it . . ." He's dug himself a hole and looks slightly uncomfortable.

I give him a suspicious squint then get up to order the pizza. Tony gets his go bag from the car and changes into sweats and a t-shirt, we eat our pizza over small talk, and brush our teeth again. I yawn, "I am still very tired, if you are not ready to get back to sleep you can stay up and watch TV for a while, but I'm hitting the bag."

"Hitting the _sack,_ and yeah, I'm tired too so where would you like me?"

I nod my head towards my bedroom and he beams with pride. When we are both on our respective sides and he is lying with his hands behind his head I curl up next to him and snuggle my head on his chest. I can feel him smiling as his arms enclose around me.

"Ziva . . . "

"Yes, Tony?"

"You okay?"

"I am all cried out but I am no longer distressed. This was not a good day, but tomorrow will be better because of it."

The back of his fingers lightly brushes my check. "So I shouldn't deck Gibbs over this?"

I smile at his willingness to fight for me. "No, I would not recommend it. After all I did not go through all this just to lose you as my partner."

"You would still have McGee."

"True. Perhaps he would like to have a slumber party next time I suffer an emotional breakdown, yes? You and McGee were partners all summer, did you ever sleep with each other for comfort?"

He laughs, "No, no, I don't offer the DiNozzo snuggle service to everyone, just the most needy." That earned him a dig in the ribs with fingers bent on tickling. He squeaks in protest.

I prop one elbow on his chest and rest my head in my hand, facing him. "So, is that why you are kind to me? Out of pity?" I say it lightly, but I admit I'm fishing.

"Something like that." His finger lightly traces my face but the flirtatious levity is gone and I know my heart is not the only one racing. "But I have promised to be a gentleman so right now I don't trust myself to be more specific."

I hold his gaze and we need no words. I run my fingers through his hair and his eyes close at the feelings they convey. I lean in and kiss his cheek and gently brush my cheek against his.

He replies weakly, "You are not making this easy for me, you know."

I answer in his ear, "I am simply testing your resolve." He is breathing heavily and I know I need to back off. He has given me complete control of this situation and while I would love to taunt him with my honest affection, I know where I do not want this to end. Eventually, yes, but not tonight so I kiss his cheek one more time and resume my original sleeping position, listening to the tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump beating much faster.


	28. With the Grain

**A/N I have the rest of this written very roughly, but as I said before, this started as killing an hour of free time. However, because I can't leave things unfinished I have dug myself into a plot that I have to resolve, thus the reasons for chapters 2-?. This is seriously out of control so I need to wrap this up. As a result, I apologize in advance that the rest of the chapters are rushed, campy and just too cliché. **

Chapter 28

With the Grain

(Gibbs POV)

I hope I did the right thing. I had to seem certain in front of Tim and Tony, but when she took off afterwards I had my doubts. I know after Shannon and Kelly, I had to do somethin' in order to survive past the moment. I don't want her to resort to anything extreme and carry a secret like I have done for all these years. I know their killer only got what he deserved, but those things that have to stay in the darkest parts of my mind prey upon me, and she deserves better than a future drowned in bourbon and sawdust. So as I wonder and wait as I sand. I don't notice the darkness, the passing hours or the ache in my wrist from the repetitive motion. I could call, but I trust Tony to look after her and if she's resting I don't want to disturb her.

* * *

Around 10 the followin' morning I hear a car door close outside then soon enough the familiar footsteps on the stairs. I don't bother to look.

"Come to borrow my basement to sand a boat in frustration?"

"Not today, Gibbs." She walks towards me. She's dressed nicely but despite havin' her hair done she still looks like she's been run through the mill but she seems . . . I guess you could say at peace. She walks up to me, takes the sander out of my hand and places it on the bench. She takes both my hands in hers, getting my full attention.

"I just wanted to stop by to say thank you." She leans in on her tiptoes and kisses one cheek then the other. I cannot stop the memories of Kelly's sweet pecks on my cheek before I left her for the last time. I drop Ziva's hands and embrace her, kissing her head, so relieved that I had made the right choice, and we find ourselves, in our unconventional father and daughter roles that are becoming less awkward.

I rest my chin on her hair, "You okay?"

"Yes, I am, and I do believe I mean it this time." I pull away, look her in the eyes and I see no pretense.

"Good." I go to reach for my sander and she stops my hand.

"But just in case you are not certain, I wanted to give you this." She pulls out a key to her apartment. Never before had she given one to me. I always respected her dual role with Mossad and as much as I didn't like her serving two masters, that was her position. She kept secrets, some out of duty, some out of choice, but this little key . . . this tells me that she is making herself permanent, open to me, the team, her true family. I'd adopted her years ago, but today she formally is adopting me. I feel like I can let out a breath that I've been holding in for years.

I smile, teeth and all, and nod. I put it in my pocket then ask, "So, where's your shadow?"

"Oh, I gave him the day off." She hands me my sander and grabs another one for herself. I no longer need to tell her to sand with the grain.


	29. Perimeter

Chapter 29

Perimeter

(Ziva's POV)

I walk in at 6:55 on Tuesday, pleased to be back at work and feeling more capable to handle violent crimes again. I still feel uneasy as too many eyes linger on me.

"Hey, Ziva, welcome back." Tim has a genuine smile on his face. He is so easy to read, and I am thankful to have his transparency in contrast to the other more complicated relationships with men in my life.

"Thank you, McGee. Did you have a nice extended weekend?"

"Actually, I did. I spent most of the time just reading. It was relaxing. And what about you? What did you do?"

Before I can answer we hear Tony's "Good morning, Probies."

That earns Tony a playful glare for reverting to his superior rhetoric, although I am secretly relieved that he is treating this as a normal day. When McGee is not looking he shoots me a wink.

Gibbs swoops through the bullpen, coffee in hand, tosses the keys to Tony and announces. "Dead Petty Officer. Grab your gear."

Gibbs lets McGee have shotgun so he can keep an eye on me himself. His actions betray no hint of worry, but he cannot help but be concerned and I believe Abby may be right about him having more than 5 senses. The ride seems longer than the 15 minutes that it should take, and I am getting antsy. I rub my hands on my thighs just to be moving something and when we pull into a parking lot near an abandoned warehouse I start feeling nervous, panicking that I will panic. Oh, the irony! I hear my heart but I close my eyes for a long second and focus on breathing.

I open my eyes and see Gibbs looking at me from the corner of my eye. He pats my knee, "Let's go." I am thankful he did not call attention to my nerves. As soon as he steps out of the car he barks our assignments. "McGee, process the victim, Tony, pictures of the crime scene, Ziva, you and I have perimeter and witness statements."

Tim scurries into the warehouse. Tony lingers behind long enough to evaluate my state of mind with furtive glances. He saunters to the warehouse and Tim meets him at the door. Looking our direction McGee is most likely giving him the details so he can decide how to handle me. Conveniently, Tony realizes that he forgot the memory card so he has an excuse to come back. If I did not know any better I would think that this had been orchestrated. Gibbs and I are still unloading gear from the trunk and he sends me to start processing as Tony passes me with a smile and a pat on my shoulder. I see them talk then Gibbs finishes getting organized and comes over to me.

"Tell me, Gibbs."

"The victim is a woman, who was strangled, but that seems to be the extent of her injuries. Your orders are to stay in the perimeter for this one."

"Oh come on! I can certainly handle processing this victim as well as I did before last week."

"I didn't say you couldn't handle it. All I'm saying is that you are staying on the perimeter today. Listen, if it makes you feel better I was banned from all crime scenes involving children for a year after Shannon and Kelly were killed. I hated Franks for it at the time, but now that I'm in his shoes I understand why he did it. This won't be forever, just think of it as humoring an old man." He smiles at me. "Anyway someone has to do the scutwork, Probie." He puts both his hands on my shoulders turns me towards our territory, and sends me off with a slight push. My annoyance abates but I am still not happy about my limitations.

One Month Later

I have been allowed and able to walk into dark crime scenes as long as the victim is male. I still have an occasional hand tremor or nervous heart thumps, but strangely enough it seems as though I automatically have a hand on my shoulder or back whenever I enter any of these places. It could be any of their hands, but I believe the men have an unspoken pact that someone makes physical contact with me if they fear that I might enter into a situation that may cause me anxiety.

Today we enter a crime scene and a strong smell that was reminiscent of the camp permeates our senses. I am with McGee who considers me with obvious apprehension, and then surveys Tony for confirmation. My partner's expression is sober and his protective eyes are on me. All three of us seem to register the musty scent of terrorism. I cannot tell exactly what the smell is or why this crime scene is different, but I have heard that smell is a strong memory trigger, and whatever this is, it is triggering reactions in all three of us. I am trying not to vomit at the repulsion growing inside me. McGee is the one that speaks up, "Uh, Ziva, I think you better go back and help Abby with tracking his movements over the past few days." Gibbs was not inside the camp long enough for the smell to register with him, but he understands and nods his agreement.

Tony puts his arm around me and turns me towards the door. "I better drop you off so that we're not left without a car." I let them coddle me on this one. As soon as I leave the building I break from Tony and vomit. No tears, no shaking even, just a physical reaction to the smell. I felt a familiar hand on my back, "Better?" I nod. "Okay, do you want to go home or to the lab?"

"Once I get away from the smell I will be fit to work, let's just get out of here."

"Fine with me," he keeps his arm around me as we walk to the car. When we arrive at NCIS, he makes up an excuse to come in. Once alone in the elevator he flips the switch, softly says, "Come here" and wraps me in his arms. Neither of us says anything, we just stand in our embrace. Eventually he kisses the top of my head and releases me, all but my hand "Can I stop by tonight?" He had not slept over since we resumed our normal working hours and I have to admit I would not mind his company after this day. We have gone back to acting the part of friendly coworkers, but closer than we had been before. He has been giving me space.

"Of course, Tony."

He responds tentatively, "I'll bring dinner and my go bag in case you'd like to be tucked in, but that's entirely up to you."

"I would like that very much. Thank you." I squeeze his hand then let it go and head to the bullpen. I promptly grab my spare clothes and shower to get the smell completely off of me, then spend the afternoon in Abby's pleasant company.


	30. At Ease

**A/N I had to rush to finish this story initially so this is a new chapter that I didn't have time to write before. **

Chapter 30

At Ease

(Ziva's POV)

One week later

Following a lead from a potential bomb threat we enter a building, Tim and I take the left flank while Tony and Gibbs circle from the right. We hear voices, smell the destructive chemicals and hope that we can interrupt before they are connected with a detonation device that can easily convert our potential terrorists into martyrs for their cause.

We do not escape their notice. I sense the hurling object before hearing the shriek of shattering glass. I cover McGee having a split second advantage in reflex timing. Unfortunately I feel the glass and wet burns seeping through my shirt.

The searing pain causes an involuntary twist and yelp that I fail to stifle. I hope that the chaos is a sufficient distraction while I right myself and try to minimize the gravity of my situation. However, my back begs to differ with my stubborn intentions.

Tony and Gibbs are pursuing the suspects while Tim wheels around to take in the scene before him, he shifts to get a view of my back then urges, "Ziva, you're bleeding and that stuff has burnt right through your shirt, get it off!"

Without hesitation and as gently as he can in his urgency, he cuts my shirt off with his knife and rushes me to the sink. He takes his off, douses it in cold water and soap and starts gently washing the blood and chemicals off my back. As I lean against the counter I hear the sharp intake of breath as the sight of mangled skin registers. He starts talking calmly while getting the tweezers from the side of his Swiss army knife, "You have shards of glass interspersed with the chemical burns. I'll try to get the bigger ones out and keep a cool cloth on your burns until we get the all clear from Gibbs and we can get you to the hospital, alright?"

I do not reply as I lean over the sink, my knuckles white with pain and uncertainty. Tim does not say anything about the scars as his hands steadily work at alternating between dampening and reapplying his shirt and pulling out glass. He pauses his curative pursuits long enough to put a gentle hand on my shoulder and ask, "Ziva, you okay?" I do not twitch, nor do I panic in any respect.

"I am fine, Tim, aside from the obvious." Yet so much is going through my mind. Am I okay? Tim is witnessing the pitiful remainders of Somalia, which I have endeavored to hide for so long, but I honestly am not mortified at the thought. Aside from the new injuries, which are definitely an annoyance, I am okay.

Gibbs calls back that all is clear. "DiNozzo has the suspects in cuffs and Fornell's guys are on their way to take them into custody." He then pauses as he sees Tim diligently tending to me.

"You okay, Ziva?" I do not have to look to feel the concern.

"Just some glass, Gibbs, nothing to worry about."

Tim rats on me, "Boss, she also has some chemical burns. Now that it's secure we need to call for an ambulance."

"I hardly need an ambulance, Gibbs." I turn, expecting to see the 'Gibbs stare' in response, but surprisingly the intense look is more gentle than demanding.

"Tim, I've got it from here. Go help DiNozzo babysit the bad guys."

Tim nods as he hands over the tweezers. I feel Gibbs gently peel off McGee's shirt and pause as he makes his assessment.

"You're going to the hospital."

I do not reply, nor do I move.

Gibbs douses Tim's shirt one last time then secures it under my sports bra to keep it clinging to my wounds then unbuttons his shirt and drapes it over my shoulders. I wrap the shirt around me rather than fumble with the buttons He places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. He bends down and kisses my forehead and firmly says, "Let's go."

Tony sees me stiffly walk out of the warehouse and rushes in my direction but I cut him off by saying, "I'm fine, Tony. Gibbs is just being overly cautious." I roll my eyes for emphasis.

Tony smirks and says, "Oh yeah, because Gibbs is such a drama queen."

I cannot stifle my giggle as Gibbs' hand connects with Tony's head. "Oooph . . . I'll be there as soon as the FBI decides to grace us with their presence." I nod and give him a reassuring smile.

Gibbs folds a jacket and places it on the dash on the passenger side "Lay your head on that." I fold my arms on the dash and lay my head on them. My back does not make contact with the seat as he drives very carefully to minimize jostling. He signs me in then supervises while I talk to the overly chatty intake nurse to verify that I do not minimize my injuries.

She asks Gibbs to step outside while she does her exam, to which I reflexively reply, "No, he can stay." I am not even sure why I say it. I have never wanted to put my weaknesses on display. Gibbs told me he had to see my file and so I know he saw pictures of my wounded back before, but his sensitive treatment of me at the warehouse communicated much more than a boss' concern over an underling. He was not able to be there for me when I needed someone the most and while I would never hold that against him, (and honestly would have pushed him away at the time if he had tried to hold my hand through any of it) I do not want to shut him out again.

When the nurse sees my back she balks at the extent of previous scarring and becomes remarkably speechless. She cannot form the words to ask their origins. Gibbs gives her a hard look and says, "We are federal agents. It's a risky job. This is not her first exposure to terrorism." This silences the nurse who scratches notes nervously then scurries away. Internally I am smiling at Gibbs' ability to say so much with few words and a sharp look.

Within a few minutes a doctor comes in followed by the nurse and insists that Gibbs step out. I am aware of the reason why so I suggest he gets some coffee then comes right back. He looks at the doctor and pointedly declares, "You have 10 minutes." The doctor looks more curious than anything as he starts gently probing into any possible domestic violence, my unorthodox work relationships and seeks a basic understanding of my recent medical history. I dismiss any domestic abuse accusations lightly, although in a way I could say that my father was not completely innocent where my injuries are concerned. As far as the torture, it is amazing how intimidating the phrase "Classified Mossad Operations" can be. In the end I skirt the details then ask if Gibbs can return. I may be a fiercely independent former assassin, but there are times I feel like a little girl that could use the comfort of my dad.

Twenty minutes later I am lying on my stomach and the doctor is hovering over me with tweezers and stitching materials. Gibbs is sitting in a corner, drinking his coffee and looking out the window but stealing protective glances my direction. I hear a light knock on the door. Gibbs shoots me a questioning look and I say, "It is fine, Gibbs, let them in."

Tim walks in first, very hesitantly, followed by a confident Tony, sauntering behind him. The doctor looks up and says, "Who do we have here, Agent David?"

"Special Agents Tony DiNozzo and Tim McGee, who is the one who thought to wash the chemicals off right away." He looked rather sheepish but I grant him a warm smile.

"Well, Agent McGee, I would say that you saved Agent David here from suffering much more extensive burns. She's lucky you were there." Tim looks uncomfortable at the heroic portrayal.

Tony starts fumbling with a model of a human heart on the counter. We both know we will talk later and are comfortable with that unspoken arrangement. He lets Tim continue.

"How you feeling, Ziva?"

"My whole back is numb so right now I am not feeling much of anything."

The doctor interjects, "You will feel quite a bit once the Lidocane wears off, and since you won't be able to reach your back easily to apply the prescribed cream yourself or change your bandages you will need to have some assistance for a few days at least." Eying Gibbs he continues, "Boss, she will have to lie still for a few days so she doesn't pop any stitches or aggravate the burns. That will be arranged, correct?"

"You hear that, David? Quarters. Not negotiable."

As I listen to this conversation take place around me, I consider my situation. I am completely comfortable with my unconventional family hovering around as I lay on an exam table in my bra, all my scars open for them to see, yet I feel no humiliation, only familial camaraderie.

"Okay, I'm about done. The total damage aside from first and a few second degree burns is 22 stitches spread throughout your lower back, I have bandages on them and you will need to keep those areas dry. I'll give you the cream to spread on the burns, and some Vicodin so you'll be able to sleep tonight. Who will be driving you home?"

Before there can be a discussion I blurt out, "McGee." I am sure Tony is disappointed, and Gibbs mildly surprised, but I want to be able to talk to Tim before I am drugged.

His smug smile is directed at Tony as he says, "Sure thing, Ziva. I'll pull the car around."

When we arrive at my apartment he walks me to the door and I ask him to come inside. I change out of Gibbs' shirt and put on a comfortable one of my own then walk out and carefully lay on the couch.

"Thank you for driving me home, and for helping me at the crime scene." He pulls a chair next to me, but he does not make direct eye contact. "Ziva, it was really no problem. I just feel bad that I had to cut off your shirt like that. I didn't mean any disrespect, or to invade your privacy, especially after all you've been through. I just reacted." That pained look pierces me again.

I put my hand under his chin and direct him to look at me, "Tim, your instincts were correct and likely saved me from any third-degree burns. Before today I thought that I would have been uncomfortable having my back so exposed but it did not bother me because it was you, Gibbs and Tony. I have nothing to hide from the team, and much to be thankful for. You did nothing inappropriate, so I never want to hear another apology about this, understood?"

He smiles. "Deal. I'm going to get you some water and your pills so you can sleep off the pain." He stands up to walk to the kitchen, but pauses at the doorway and turns back to shoot me a smile. I cannot help but think that Sarah is a lucky girl to have grown up with Tim as a big brother.

I do not stir while Tim sits in the recliner and watches a Stargate marathon. He starts to try to explain the basic premise to me, but as words such as jaffa, tokrah, and goauld, swarm through my brain and I feel inexplicably sucked into a wormhole thanks to the meds, I decide it is much easier to fall asleep than try to follow the plot.

When I wake again from an odd dream where Gibbs' eyes inexplicably started glowing, Tim morphed into Tony, who was now watching my Israeli copy of "Raiders of the Lost Arc." My fuzzy mind is trying to reconcile Tony with Hebrew and pain and eventually the reality of my situation descends on me and I remember.

"Hey, there, Sunshine," Tony says pausing the movie and kneeling in front of me.

I rub my eyes then squint at him, "Where's McGee?"

Tony answers in mock suspicion, "Why the sudden interest in McGee? It wasn't good enough that he got to tear off your shirt, now you want him to be the one to rub in the cream and tuck you in at night? I could give him a call if you'd like, but I'm just not sure he'll feel the same. After all, you're really not his type."

"I am not certain Tim has a 'type,' he is very open-minded you know, and his last girlfriend did turn out to be an assassin, so who knows, maybe I do stand a chance."

Tony eyes me playfully, "You know you're killing me, right?"

"Oh, I am counting on it."

"Well, as I drew the short straw you are stuck with me tonight, so I suggest you deal with your McDisappointment while you dine on Chinese and accept the fact that I have sequestered your remote this fine evening."

_(Tony's POV)_

_I had talked to Tim after Gibbs and I caught the suspects. He came out from the warehouse, very pale, and it was obvious that he was avoiding making eye contact. _

"_Everything secure there, Probie? Where's Probette?"_

_Tim looked down. "Uh, she got hit by some glass and chemicals. Gibbs is taking care of her, and I think she'll be okay but I'm sure he'll insist on a stop to Bethesda." I fought my instinct to run to her aid and rescue her like her personal knight in shining NCIS armor. His guilty look told me there was more to the story. "Elaborate, McGee."_

"_I feel awful, but I really didn't have a choice, I mean, I would never have done it otherwise, but I'm not sure if she'll forgive me for it now." His feet were shuffling and he was as jittery as I've ever seen him._

"_Just spit it out, Tim." Then I added pointedly pausing after each word, "What. Did. You. Do. To. her?" It came out much more accusatory than I meant, after all McGee could never hurt anyone on purpose so whatever it was really couldn't have been that bad, could it?_

"_I cut off her shirt. You warned me that she was badly scarred but I couldn't help but be shocked by it all. I don't think she would have wanted me to see her scars and I carelessly tore off her shirt to wash the chemical burns off. I didn't consider her privacy, I didn't even ask if it was okay. I know all she's been through and still I callously tore off her shirt."_

_I looked at him and saw how uncomfortable he was. I knew Tim would never be anything but chivalrous unless it was an emergency. I reflected on how I've jumped down his throat when it came to Ziva before so I opted not to go either in the direction of bullying him about it or teasing him about just wanting to see her with her shirt off, so after a pause I took a less conventional route – kindness._

"_Tim, what would you have done if it was Sarah? Would you have done anything differently?"_

"_No, but she's my sister, and she's never been imprisoned and abused. It's not the same."_

"_Don't underestimate her, McGee. She knows that you would never deliberately hurt her, and if anything, I'm sure she's thankful for your help. Anyway, she has a soft spot for you, just like Abby has towards bunnies. You'll be fine."_

I walk back into the living room and see the sharp pain in her expression. I bring her dinner and pills then head back to get the medical supplies that Tim had left out in a very organized fashion. I take it all back to the couch and spread it on the coffee table.

"Are you sure you did not volunteer to watch me so that you could brag about taking my shirt off again, Tony?"

I raise an eyebrow, "Wouldn't you like to know. However, now that you mention it, I do need to be granted access to that irresistible back of yours, otherwise I'll withhold all medical treatment and you'll have to confess that you were in physical pain from lack of my touch."

Boy am I flirting with fire. I just can't help myself.

She gives me a sultry look and says, "Well, we cannot have that now can we?" Then she lifts herself off the couch enough for me to slide her shirt up to assess her new injuries. As I examine and lightly touch them she sweetly says, "So, are you going to change my bandages or do I need to ask McGee to come back and work on them with his extremely skilled hands?"

"Oh, Probationary Agent David, if you think his hands are highly skilled you have much to learn." I gently start peeling off the old bandages and tenderly apply the creams and new bandages. She seems to register that I was taking my time, and enjoying myself. The content smile that graces her face tells me that she really does not mind.

"So, are you going to kiss them all and make them better or are you nearly finished?" I can't help but jump at the opportunity so I lean in and gently kiss her back in several places. I feel her twitch and her expression confirms that it is a pleasant reaction to my light touch rather than out of pain.

Before I let myself get too carried away I clear my throat and say, "There. Good as new." I tug down her shirt then lift her legs and sit under them on the end of the couch and rub her calves. "Hey, you want to sleep in your bed or out here on the couch?"

She groggily replies, "Bed . . . you might as well come along. There is no need for both of us to have painful backs in the morning." I help her off the couch then leave her to change. I hear sounds of frustration then surprisingly a mild call for me to enter. When I walk in she is wearing a long t-shirt and it's obvious that while she could get her cargo pants off she was having trouble bending over to get her pajama bottoms on. Her pride is paying a price for the admission so I don't make any inappropriate comments despite what I'm sure she was expecting. Instead I keep eye contact as I bend down and help her get her shorts pulled up until she can reach them and tie the drawstring. I then pull down the covers on her side of the bed and she awkwardly lowers herself onto her stomach, wincing at the effort. I make her as comfortable as possible before I climb in the other side and reach over to lay my hand on her shoulder. As the snoring begins I find that I am perfectly content.


	31. Peace

Chapter 31

Peace

Two Months Later

I am now allowed to work all crime scenes and while my panic responses have begun to abate, having a hand briefly on my shoulder or back at crime scenes continues to be a constant.

We arrive at the crime scene after spending the drive probing McGee mercilessly about the reason for his new haircut and cologne only to arrive at a familiar scene. We all walk in together and there she is, another victim of murder and assault, hands bound with rope. Gibbs hand is on my shoulder as we entered the crime scene in the basement, and as he takes in the scene his arm crosses over my neck and rests on my far shoulder. Silence. I feel so strange, as though I was seeing something familiar but from a distance. Gibbs does not pull me out of the room immediately, and I am thankful for that. All eyes are on me yet I barely register them. My thoughts are scattered. Pity, fear, anger and while these are brewing the tremors begin. Tony comes next to me on the other side and says, "Come on, let's go." But I do not budge.

"No . . . I will be okay. I need to stay." He looks concerned and frustrated that he cannot save me from my self-imposed misery. Gibbs is still silently beside me, giving no guidance. He is letting me do whatever I feel like I need to do. "Gibbs, may I process the victim?"

He quietly responds, "Okay, but I'm going to process as well." I nod.

No one speaks while we work. My hands shake severely so Gibbs has to assist me with documentation, but he does everything he can to be supportive while maintaining a professional exterior. I carefully take trace samples from her clothes, the rope and the carpet right next to her. I am thankful that Ducky will be the one scraping her fingernails and skin for DNA and other trace. I treat her very respectfully and carefully, as though I am healing her rather than taking her one step closer to burial. I find myself relieved that her pain in this world is over, that she will never suffer again and that thought gives me great peace.

I used to pray for that same peace, that this life would end so that I could no longer feel broken, a new start in an eternal world of promise. Now I look at her and realize that while she is at peace, I am as well. I still am here on this earth, but there is a purpose for me. I am no longer a disposable asset, I have a place where I matter and even though this reality is not perfect, I feel no need to hasten my entry into the next. As I process the body and my resolve intensifies, my hands begin to steady. There is still a slight shake, but I am one big step closer to being whole in this world.

Finally after Ducky takes the victim's body away and we finish processing, Gibbs declares us done. We pack our gear and evidence and in the process all three men have either patted my back or put yet another hand on my shoulder. I do not resent this show of support. It is not from condescension but encouragement. Each touch reminds me why I need to be here – in America, at NCIS and on this team.

The ride to NCIS is quiet despite the strong scent still wafting from McGee's general direction. Gibbs drives and Tony sits by me in the back. He hooks his pinky with mine and lightly squeezes it. I know he will knock on my door later and I'm thankful for that certainty.

I used to think that my redemption was complete when I landed back in DC in September, that my gradual salvation came from several months of planning and executing the rescue mission. Now I realize that it was all just the beginning. Here I am, six months later and I finally have no secrets that haunt me. With that thought I drift to sleep, my head on Tony's shoulder.


	32. Epilogue

**A/N This is really sappy. You have been warned. **

**Epilogue**

**3 years from now**

**(Tony's POV)**

I once thought that I was living the American dream - an independent life, a job requiring a gun, and a string of leggy blondes. I vaguely thought that it would eventually include a son to carry on the DiNozzo name, but I honestly had no real intention of committing to anyone long enough to see that happen.

I now know I was wrong. The American dream is about second chances, about being better than other people's expectations. It's about justice and personal triumph over tragedy. It's having an immigrant wife who is intelligent and exotic and bears badges of strength and courage on her perfect skin. It's holding our precious daughter who is the spitting image of her mom, a first generation Israeli American.

Ziva is sleeping after the long delivery. There's one more scar on her stomach, but this time there was no sorrow with the pain. I hold our daughter in one arm and stroke Ziva's hair back out of her face with my other. There is a light knock at the door and I get up and open it for Gibbs, our first visitor.

He walks in, I introduce him to his first granddaughter, Tali, and he tenderly takes her from my arms, kisses her cheek and cradles her in his arms. His eyes redden as he starts humming and swaying back and forth holding her against his chest where she can feel the lulling vibrations of the song.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching this man who's tough as nails getting emotional over our little baby girl . . I can't even finish the thought without my own eyes watering. We are quite a pair.

After some manly tear swatting and throat clearing Gibbs speaks quietly, as not to wake Ziva.

"How's she doing?" He nods towards my wife.

"You know, I've seen her win knife fights, bring criminals to tears in interrogation, fight off guys twice her size with no weapon at all, and I have even seen her being tortured, but I've never been so in awe of her as I was last night. It was amazing, Gibbs. I had no idea I could love her more than I did two days ago but I do."

Gibbs smiles at her, looks back down at Tali, and I can tell he's remembering being in my position a long time ago. I now understand what he went through when he lost Shannon and Kelly. My eyes start to water again, this time in sorrow for him. Gibbs walks towards me, and hugs me a bit awkwardly with Tali cradled in one arm, and with the other hand firmly planted behind my neck and says, "I'm proud of you, Son."

I break down and cry. I can't tell you if it's because I'm so tired, so emotionally overwhelmed or something else all together. I'm sure Ducky could somehow tie it to my lack of paternal affirmation growing up, but whatever the reason, I have to admit it feels good. This man, the one I most admire and respect, the man who has seen all the times I've screwed up over the past dozen years, the man I would have chosen to raise me, is proud of me. I've done nothing to deserve it. Gibbs keeps his hand on the back of my neck and squeezes it a few times. I look at him again with my daughter and I finally get it.

No matter what happens, no matter how many times she messes up, I will love this little girl. I will protect her, I will be there for her. I know I'll screw up now and then, but there is nothing that she could ever do to change my commitment to her, or her mom. I now understand how Gibbs could help me get through all my stupidity, patiently being there to help me be a better man in the long run. My own father was required to parent me, but it was done reluctantly at a distance. Gibbs has always been just a few feet away, and has parented all of us by choice.

I start thinking about the first serious conversation I had with him about Ziva, a week after she processed the assault victim.

_I had never been so nervous in my life. I had talked to Gibbs all the time, and this should have been no different. Who was I trying to fool, of course it would have been, he could have turned me out and that would have been the end of it. After pacing circles in his front yard, I finally had gotten up the nerve to walk in the house and down the basement steps. _

_My hands were sweating, I had no plan of action, I just went. He heard the steps and said, "What can I do for you, DiNozzo?"_

_I decided that since I was talking to Gibbs the fewer words the better. I tossed him a tiny box. He opened it, looked at it for what seemed like an eternity, closed it, tossed it back then said dryly, "You know you're not my type."_

_I replid, "I know it's the hair, isn't it?"_

"_Among other things . . ."_

"_So?" I started to pace not being able to take the suspense._

"_Are you asking my permission for her hand in marriage? I wasn't aware that things were that serious. Have you ever even taken her on a real date?"_

"_Well, I'm not exactly going to completely trump rule 12 with an engagement right off the bat. I don't know when I'll give it to her, but I'm certain that at some point I will."_

_Gibbs pulled up two sawhorses, "Sit." I obeyed._

_He poured us both a drink. "You know, I went through all my career with a set of rules that worked well for everyone, and then this Mossad agent stepped into the picture and for once I find myself making exception after exception for her. She looks at me with those eyes and I get soft, even sometimes act against my better judgement."_

"_Gibbs, you're the closest thing to a father she has, and I am asking."_

"D_on't know how she'd feel about you getting permission. You don't need it to get a marriage license, you know. She's free to make her own decisions."_

_He was taunting me and I took the bait._

"_Fine, I just wanted your support, but I can see you're not going to budge. Do whatever you need to do to reassign me to a different team, but I'm not giving up." I started to stand up._

_He put his hand out to motion for me to sit. "Didn't say you weren't getting my permission." There was determination in his eyes. "I wouldn't entrust her to anyone but you, Tony. Look after her. Take good care of her."_

_After we had our drink he asked, "So, how are you going to ask her?"_

_I rubbed my hand on my neck, "I don't know, nothing seems good enough. I want to really wow her but also take her by surprise."_

_He half smiled, "Good luck with that. You'll have your work cut out for you."_

"_Thanks, Gibbs." I shook his hand then he pulled me in for a manly hug disguised as a back slap. _

"_You're welcome. Just don't screw this up." He gave me a preventative head slap._

_Only after that conversation did I call Ziva and ask her on our first formal date. I was nervous even though we had been friends for years. We didn't need time to figure out if we were compatible, or if our relationship would last, and we had the added pressure of the unpredictability of if tomorrow would come, so I was not planning to wait long before popping the question. _

_In the end, I blurted out the proposal a few months later while she was defusing a bomb. In the face of potential death, I had to know what she would have said. She never looked from the wires she was gingerly manipulating. She just said, "Yes, Tony, I will marry you." And I saw some tears fall as she finished. She was successful and then I felt the weight of disappointment at the timing and situation of the last marriage proposal that I would ever make. As soon as we left the building I took her hand and we went out back. I got down on one knee in the alley, apologized for not asking her properly, and after some string of incoherent nonsense that I hope was romantic, I asked her formally, and she still said yes, even though we would live to see another day. I took out the ring that had lived in my pocket all that time and slipped the size five perfectly on her sweaty finger covered in bomb residue. It was far from a blockbuster performance, it was unpolished and chaotic, but in the end it seemed to fit. At least I did take her by surprise. Before we left the alley she put her hand out to stop me, took out her phone and dialed, "Abby . . . "_

Once I settle down we both hear Ziva stir and we walk over towards the bed. I sit next to her and hold her hand, rubbing my thumb on it as her eyes flutter open. She instinctively looks for Tali and finds her in Gibbs' arms. He leans over and kisses her cheek. "Congratulations, she's beautiful. You've done well." Ziva beams and squeezes my hand.

"I can see that she is very comfortable in her grandpa's arms."

"Yes, she is."

"Gibbs, are you certain that you are prepared to do this?"

"Ziva, I've spent my life working, and I've loved doing my job, but I would've traded it all for one more day with Shannon and Kelly. You're giving me a chance to spend time with my granddaughter. My senior field agent has been ready to take over for years and I've stood in his way long enough. Anyway, where else could you possibly find another babysitter with the skills required to both change diapers and protect her from rogue Mossad agents and terrorists?"

"Well, Grandpa Gibbs, you know I am taking 2 months off then only going back part time, so you will have to share her."

"Well then it's fortunate you chose to move into the neighborhood so you can visit her." His smile never fades.

Gibbs has already made a crib for her and he's working on a second one to keep at his house. As much as I do not want to lose Gibbs as my boss, I feel secure knowing that he'll be spending time with Tali. She will have a kick-butt Manny, carpentry skills at a very young age and I will never have to worry about boys coming around when I'm not there. Gibbs has one more month of work then he is retiring from NCIS, and handing me the reins. Technically I am qualified for them, but I know I will never steer them quite as well.

**The End**

**Hope you enjoyed the story. I have to admit it was fun to write. Thank you for the reviews and compliments. I apologize again for all the errors, and thank those who suffered through them to get all the way to the end. **

**For anyone who was disappointed at the lack of more intimate bedroom scenes, I'd just like to say that I realize that they would have eventually ended up there, but call me sentimental, I still think the one true fairy tale ending that this world offers is not sealing the deal until your wedding night. I married my best friend and did wait, and I cannot tell you how worth it it was! I add that detail to encourage any of you that are single that despite what the media portrays to be the norm, you can choose to wait. I'm sure that many of you and the characters on NCIS would not share my view, and that is your choice, but I just can't write anything contrary so I left those details out. Now that the characters are free of this adventure, they can cuss and do as they please without restraint, but only in your minds, not my own **

**Again, many thanks!**


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